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HISTORIC HANDBOOK 



NORTHERN TOUR. 



i 




WOLFE. 

Aged 32. 



HISTORIC HANDBOOK 



NORTHERN TOUR. 



LAKES GEORGE AND CHAMPLAIN ; NIAGARA; 
MONTREAL; QUEBEC. 



BY 

FRANCIS PARKMAN. 

M 



BOSTON: 
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 

LS9'J. 



E^'^'^, 



V 



zl 



CojnjrigU, 18S5, 
By Francis Pakkman. 



. J 



University Press: 
John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. 



This book is a group of narratives of the most strik- 
ing events of our colonial history connected with the 
principal points of interest to the tourist visiting Canada 
and the northern borders of the United States. 

The narratives are drawn, with the addition of ex- 
planatory passages, from " The Conspiracy of Pontiac," 
" Pioneers of France in the New World," " The Jesuits 
in North America," " Count Frontenac," and " Mont- 
calm and Wolfe." 

Boston, 1 April, 1885. 



CONTENTS. 



LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

PAGE 

Discovery of Lake Champlain 3 

Discovery of Lake George 9 

Battle of Lake George 16 

A WiKTER Raid 40 

Siege and Massacre of Fort William Henry . 45 

Battle of Ticonderoga 65 

A Legend of Ticonderoga 86 

NIAGARA. 

Siege of Fort Niagara 93 

Massacre of the Devil's Hole 98 

MONTREAL. 

The Birth of Montreal 105 

QUEBEC. 

Infancy of Quebec 123 

A Military Mission 128 

Massachusetts Attacks Quebec . , 134 

The Heights of Abraham 154 



LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 



DISCOVERY OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

'T^ITLS beautiful lake owes its name to Samuel do 
-'- Champlaiii, the founder of Quebec. In 1609, long 
before the Pilgrim Fathers landed at Plj-mouth, he 
joined a band of Huron and Algonquin warriors on an 
expedition against their enemies, the Iroquois, since 
known as the Five Nations of New York. While grati- 
fying his own love of adventure, he expected to make 
important geographical discoveries. 

After a grand war dance at the infant settlement of 
Quebec, the allies set out together. Champlain was in 
a boat, carrying, besides himself, eleven men, chief 
among whom were one Marais and a pilot named La 
Routte, all armed with the arquebuse, a species of fire- 
arm shorter than tlie musket, nnd therefore better fitted 
for the woods. 

They ascended the St. Lawrence and entered the 
Richelieu, which forms the outlet of Lake Champlain. 
Here, to Champlain's great disappointment, he found 
his farther progress barred by the rapids at Chambly, 
though the Indians had assured him that his boat could 
pass all the way unobstructed. He told them that 
though they had deceived him, he would not abandon 
them, sent Marais with the boat and most of the men 
back to Quebec, and, with two who offered to follow 
him, prepared to go on in the Indian canoes. 



4 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

The warriors lifted their canoes from the water, and 
in long procession through the forest, under the flicker- 
ing sun and shade, bore them on their shoulders around 
the rapids to the smooth stream above. Here the chiefs 
made a muster of their forces, counting twenty-four 
canoes and sixty warriors. All embarked again, and 
advanced once more, by marsh, meadow, forest, and 
scattered islands, then full of game, for it was an unin- 
habited land, the war-path and battle-ground of hostile 
tribes. The warriors observed a certain system in their 
advance. Some were in front as a vanguard; others 
formed the main body ; while an equal number were in 
the forests on the flanks and rear, hunting for the sub- 
sistence of the whole ; for, though they had a provision 
of parched maize pounded into meal, they kept it for use 
when, from the vicinity of the enemy, hunting should 
become impossible. 

Still the canoes advanced, the river widening as 
they went. Great islands appeared, leagues in extent : 
Isle a la Motte, Long Island, Grande Isle. Channels 
where ships might float and broad reaches of expanding 
water stretched between them, and Champlain entered 
the lake which preserves his name to posterity. Cum- 
berland Head was passed, and from the opening of the 
great channel between Grande Isle and the main, he 
could look forth on tlie wilderness sea. Edged with 
woods, the tranquil flood spread southward beyond the 
sight. Far on the left, the forest ridges of the Green 
Mountains were heaved against the sun, patches of snow 
still glistening on their tops ; and on the right rose the 
Adirondacks, haunts in these later years of amateur 
sportsmen from counting-rooms or college halls, nay, 
of adventurous beauty, with sketch-book and pencil. 
Thou the Ii'oquois made them their hunting-ground ; and 



DISCOVERY OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 5 

beyond, in the valleys of the Mohawk, the Onondaga, 
and the Genesee, stretched the long line of their five 
cantons and palisaded towns. 

The progress of the party was becoming dangerous. 
They changed their mode of advance, and moved only 
in the night. All day, they lay close in the depth of the 
forest, sleeping, lounging, smoking tobacco of their own 
raising, and beguiling the hours, no doubt, with the 
shallow banter and obscene jesting with which knots of 
Indians are wont to amuse their leisure. At twilight 
they embarked again, paddling their cautious way till 
the eastern sky began to redden. Their goal was the 
rocky promontory where Fort Ticonderoga was long 
afterward built. Thence, they would pass the outlet 
of Lake George, and launch their canoes again on that 
Como of the wilderness, whose waters, limpid as a 
fountain-head, stretched far southward between their 
flanking mountains. Landing at the future site of Fort 
William Henry, they would carry their canoes through 
the forest to the River Hudson, and descending it, at- 
tack, perhaps, some outlying town of the Mohawks. In 
the next century this chain of lakes and rivers became 
the grand highway of savage and civilized war, a bloody 
debatable ground linked to memories of momentous 
conflicts. 

The allies were spared so long a progress. On the 
morning of the twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all 
night, they hid as usual in the forest on the western 
shore, not far from Crown Point. The warriors stretched 
themselves to their slumbers, and Champlain, after 
walking for a time through the surrounding woods, re- 
turned to take his repose on a pile of spruce-boughs. 
Sleeping, he dreamed a dream, wherein he beheld the 
Iroquois drowning in the lake ; and, essaying to rescue 



6 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

them, he was told by his Algonquin friends that they 
were good for nothing and had better be left to their 
fate. Now, he had been daily beset, on awakening, by 
his superstitious allies, eager to learn about his dreams ; 
and, to this moment, his unbroken slumbers had failed 
to furnish the desired prognostics. The announcement 
of this auspicious vision filled the crowd with joy, and 
at nightfall they embarked, flushed with anticipated 
victories. 

It was ten o'clock in the evening, when they descried 
dark objects in motion on the lake before them. These 
were a flotilla of Iroquois canoes, heavier and slower than 
theirs, for they were made of oak or elm bark. Each 
party saw the other, and the mingled war-cries pealed 
over the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near 
the shore, having no stomach for an aquatic battle, 
landed, and, making night hideous with their clamors, 
began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see 
them in the woods, laboring like beavers, hacking down 
trees with iron axes taken from the Canadian tribes 
in war, and with stone hatchets of their own making. 
The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from tlie 
hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by 
poles lashed across. All niglit, they danced with as 
much vigor as the frailty of their vessels would permit, 
their throats making amends for the enforced restraint 
of their limbs. It was agreed on both sides that the 
fight should be deferred till daybreak ; but meanwhile 
a commerce of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting 
gave unceasing exercise to the lungs and fancy of the 
combatants, — " much," says Champlain, " like the 
besiegers and besieged in a beleaguered town." 

As day approached, he iind his two followers put 
on the light armor of the time. Champlain Avore the 



DISCOVERY OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 7 

doublet and long hose then in vogue. Over the doublet 
he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, 
while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel, and 
his head by a plumed casque. Across his shoulder hung 
the strap of his bandoleer, or ammunition-box ; at his 
side was his sword, and in his hand his arqucbuse, which 
he had loaded with four balls. Such was the equipment 
of this ancient Indian-fighter, whose exploits date eleven 
years before the landing of the Puritans at Plymouth, 
and sixty-six years before King Philip's War. 

Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, 
and, as it grew light, they kept tliemselves hidden, 
either by lying at the bottom, or co\cring themselves 
with an Indian robe. The canoes ap})roached the shore, 
and all landed without opposition at some distance from 
tlie Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing out of 
their barricade, tall, strong men, some two hundred in 
number, of the boldest and fiercest warriors of North 
America. They advanced through the forest with a 
steadiness which excited the admiration of Champlain. 
Among them could be seen several chiefs, made con- 
spicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore sliields of wood 
and hide, and some w^ere covered with a kind of armor 
made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fibre 
supposed by Champlain to be cotton. 

The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries 
for their champion, and opened their ranks that he 
might pass to the front. He did so, and, advancing 
before his red companions-in-arms, stood revealed to 
the astonished gaze of tlie Iroquois, who, beholding the 
warlike apparition in their path, stared in mute amaze- 
ment. But his arquebuse was levelled ; the report 
startled the woods, a chief fell dead, and another by 
his side rolled among the l)ushes. Then there rose 



8 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

from the allies a yell, which, says Champlain, would 
have drowned a thunder-clap, and the forest was full of 
whizzing arrows. For a moment, the Iroquois stood 
firm and sent back their arrows lustily ; but when an- 
other and another gunshot came from the thickets on 
their flank, they broke and fled in uncontrollable terror. 
Swifter than hounds, the allies tore through the bushes 
in pursuit. Some of the Iroquois were killed ; more 
were taken. Camp, canoes, provisions, all were aban- 
doned, and many weapons flung down in the panic 
flight. The arquebuse had done its work. The vic- 
tory was complete. 

The victors made a prompt retreat from the scene of 
their trium])h. Three or four days brought them to 
the mouth of the Richelieu. Here they separated ; the 
Hurons and Algonquins made for the Ottawa, their 
homeward route, each with a share of prisoners for 
future torments. At parting they invited Champlain 
to visit their towns and aid them again in their wars, 
— an invitation which this paladin of the woods failed 
not to accept. 

Thus did New France rush into collision with the 
redoubted warriors of the Five Nations. Here was the 
beginning, in some measure doubtless the cause, of a 
long suite of murderous conflicts, bearing havoc and 
flame to generations yet unborn. Champlain had in- 
vaded the tiger's den ; and now, in smothered fury, the 
patient savage would lie biding his day of blood. 



DISCOVERY OF LAKE GEORGE. 

TT was thirty-three years since Champlain had first 
■^ attacked, the Iroquois. They had nursed their wrath 
for more than a generation, and at length their hour 
was come. The Dutcli traders at Fort Orange, now 
Albany, had supplied them with firearms. The Mo- 
hawks, the most easterly of the Iroquois nations, had, 
among their seven or eight hundred warriors, no less 
than three hundred armed with the arquebuse. They 
were masters of the thunderbolts which, in the hands of 
Champlain, had struck terror into their hearts. 

In the early morning of the second of August, 1642, 
twelve Pluron canoes were moving slowly along the 
northern shore of the expansion of the St. Lawrence 
known as the Lake of St. Peter. There were on board 
about forty persons, including four Frenchmen, one of 
them being the Jesuit, Isaac Jogues. During the last 
autumn he, with Father Charles Raymbault, had passed 
along the shore of Lake Huron northward, entered the 
strait through which Lake Superior discharges itself, 
pushed on as far as the Sault Sainte Marie, and preached 
the Faith to two thousand Ojibwas, and other Algon- 
quins there assembled. He was now on his return from 
a far more perilous errand. The Huron mission was 
in a state of destitution. There was need of clothing 
for the priests, of vessels for the altars, of bread and 
wine for the eucharist, of writing materials, — in short, 



10 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

of everything ; and, early in the snmmer of the present 
year, Jogncs had descended to Three Rivers and Quebec 
with the Huron traders, to procure tlic necessary sup- 
plies. He had accomplished his task, and was on his 
way back to the mission. With him were a few Huron 
converts, and among them a noted Christian chief, Eus- 
tache Ahatsistari. Others of the party were in course 
of instruction for baptism; but the greater part were 
heathen, whose canoes were deeply laden with the pro- 
ceeds of their bargains with the French fur-traders. 

Jogues sat in one of the leading canoes. He was 
born at Orleans in 1607, and was thirty-five years of 
age. His oval face and the delicate mould of his feat- 
ures indicated a modest, thoughtful, and refined nature. 
He was constitutionally timid, with a sensitive conscience 
and great religious susceptibilities. He was a finished 
scholar, and might have gained a literary reputation ; 
but he had chosen another career, and one for which he 
seemed but ill fitted. Physically, however, he was well 
matched with his work ; for, though his frame Avas slight, 
he was so active, that none of the Indians could surpass 
him in running. 

With him were two young men, Rene (ilouj)il and 
Guillaume C outnrv, donnes of the mission, — that is to 
say, laymen who, from a religious motive and without 
pay, had attached themselves to the service of the 
Jesuits. Goupil had formerly entered upon the Jesuit 
novitiate at Paris, but failing health had obliged him to 
leave it. As soon as he was able, he came to Canada, 
offered his services to the Superior of the mission, was 
employed for a time in the humblest offices, and after- 
wards became an attendant at the hospital. At length, 
to his delight, he received permission to go up to the 
Hurons, where the surgical skill which he had acquired 



DISCOVEKY OF LAKE GEORGE. 11 

was greatly needed ; and he was now on his way thither. 
His companion, Couture, was a man of intelligence and 
vigor, and of a character equally disinterested. Both 
were, like Jogues, in the foremost canoes ; while the 
fourth Frenchman was with the unconverted Hurons, in 
the rear. 

The twelve canoes had reached the western end of the 
Lake of St. Peter, where it is filled with innumerable 
islands. The forest was close on their right, they kept 
near the shore to avoid the current, and the shallow 
water before them was covered with a dense growth of 
tall bulrushes. Suddenly the silence was friglitfuUy 
broken. The war-whoo}) rose from among the rushes, 
mingled with the reports of guns and the whistling of 
bullets ; and several Iroquois canoes, filled with warriors, 
pushed out from their concealment, and bore down upon 
Jogues and his compauions. Tlie Hurons in the rear 
were seized with a shameful panic. They leaped ashore ; 
left canoes, baggage, and weapons ; and fled into tlie 
woods. The French and the Christian Hurons made 
fight for a time ; but when they saw another fleet of 
canoes approaching from the opposite shores or islands, 
they lost heart, and those escaped who could. Goupil 
Avas seized, amid triumphant yells, as were also several 
of the Huron converts. Jogues sprang into the bul- 
rushes, and might have escaped; but when he saw 
Goupil and the neophytes in the clutches of the Iroquois, 
he had no heart to abandon them, but came out from 
his hiding-place, and gave himself up to the astonished 
victors. A few of them had remained to guard the 
prisoners ; the rest were chasing the fugitives. Jogues 
mastered his agony, and began to baptize those of the 
captive converts who needed bajjtism. 

Couture had eluded pursuit ; but when he thought of 



12 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CHAM PLAIN. 

Jogiies and of what pcrbajjs awaited him, he resolved to 
share his fate, and, turning, retraced his steps. As he 
appi'oached, live Iroquois ran forward to meet him ; and 
one of them snapped his gun at his breast, but it missed 
lire. In his confusion and excitement, Couture fired his 
own piece, and laid the savage dead. The remaining 
four sprang upon him, stripped off all his clothing, tore 
away his finger-nails with their teeth, gnawed his fin- 
gers with the fury of famished dogs, and thrust a sword 
through one of his hands. Jogues broke from his guards, 
and, rushing to his friend, threw his arms about his 
neck. The Iroquois dragged him away, beat him with 
their fists and war-clubs till he was senseless, and, when 
he revived, lacerated his fingers with, their teeth, as they 
had done tliose of Couture. Then they turned upon 
Goupil, and treated him with the same ferocity. The 
Huron prisoners were left for the present unharmed. 
More of tliem were brought in every moment, till at 
length the number of captives amounted in all to twenty- 
two, while three Hurons had been killed in the fight 
and pursuit. The Iroquois, about seventy in number, 
now embarked with their prey ; but not until they had 
knocked on the head an old Huron, whom Jogues, with 
his mangled hands, had just baptized, and who refused 
to leave the place. Then, under a burning sun, they 
crossed to the spot on which the town of Sorel now 
stands, at the mouth of the River Richelieu, where they 
encamped. 

Their course was southward, up the River Richelieu 
and Lake Champlain ; thence, by way of Lake George, 
to the Mohawk towns. The pain and fever of their 
wounds, and the clouds of mosquitoes, which they could 
not drive off, left the prisoners no peace by day nor 
sleep by night. On the eighth day, they learned that a 



DISCOVERY OF LAKE GEORGE. 13 

large Iroquois war-party, on their way to Canada, were 
near at hand ; and they soon approached their camp, on 
a small island near the southern end of Lake Champlain. 
The warriors, two hundred in number, saluted their vic- 
torious countrymen with volleys from their guns ; then, 
armed with clubs and thorny sticks, ranged themselves 
in two lines, between which the captives were compelled 
to pass up the side of a rocky hill. On the way, they 
were beaten with such fury, that Jogues, who was last 
in the line, fell powerless, drenched in blood and half 
dead. As the chief man among the French captives, he 
fared the worst. His hands were again mangled, and 
fire applied to his body ; while the Huron chief, Eustache, 
was subjected to tortures even more atrocious. When, 
at night, the exhausted sufferers tried to rest, the young 
warriors came to lacerate their wounds and pull out 
their hair and beards. 

In the morning they resumed their journey. And 
now the lake narrowed to the semblance of a tranquil 
river. Before them was a woody mountain, close on 
their right a rocky promontory, and between these flowed 
a stream, the outlet of Lake George. On those rocks, 
more than a hundred years after, rose the ramparts of 
Ticonderoga. They landed, shouldered their canoes and 
baggage, took their way through the woods, passed the 
spot where the fierce Highlanders and the dauntless 
regiments of England breasted in vain the storm of 
lead and fire, and soon reached the shore where Aber- 
crombie landed and Lord Howe fell. First of white 
men, Jogues and his companions gazed on the romantic 
lake that bears the name, not of its gentle discoverer, 
l)ut of the dull Hanoverian king. Like a fair Naiad of 
the wilderness, it slumbered between the guardian moun- 
tains tliat breathe from crag and forest the stern poetry 



14 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

of war. But all then was solitude ; and the clang of 
trumpets, the roar of cannon, and the deadly crack of 
the rifle had never as yet awakened their angry echoes.^ 

Again the canoes were launched, and the wild flotilla 
glided on its way, — now in the shadow of the heights, 
now on the broad expanse, now among the devious chan- 
nels of the narrows, beset with woody islets, where the 
hot air was redolent of the pine, the spruce, and the 
cedar, — till they neared that tragic shore, where, in 
the following century. New p]ngland rustics baffled the 
soldiers of Dieskau, where Montcalm planted his bat- 
teries, where the red cross waved so long amid the 
smoke, and where at length the summer morning was 
hideous with carnage, and an honored name was stained 
with a memory of blood. 

The Iroquois landed at or near the future site of Fort 
William Henry, left their canoes, and, with their prison- 
ers, began their march for the nearest Mohawk town. 
Each bore his share of the plunder. Even Jogues, 
though his lacerated hands were in a frightful condition 
and his body covered with bruises, Avas forced to stagger 
on with the rest under a heavy load. He with his 
fellow-prisoners, and indeed the whole party, were half 

1 Lake George, according to Jogues, was called by the Mohawks 
" Andiatarocte," or Place w/iere the Lake closes. " Andiataraque " is 
found on a map of Sanson. Spofford, Gozetteer of New York, article 
" Lake George," says that it was called " Canideri-oit," or Tail of the 
Lake. Father Martin, in his notes on Bressani, prefixes to this name 
that of " Horicon," but gives no original authority. 

I have seen an old Latin map on which the name " Horiconi " is set 
down as belonging to a neighboring tribe. This seems to be only a 
misprint for " Horicoui," that is, " Irocoui," or " Iroquois." In an old 
English map, prefixed to the rare tract, A Treatise of New Encjland, the 
•' Lake of Hierocoyes " is laid down. The name " Horicon," as used by 
Cooper in his Last of the Mnhirans. has no sufficient historical foundation. 
In lfi46, the lake, as we shall sec, was named " Lac St. Sacrenient." 



DISCOVERY OF LAKE GEORGE. 15 

starved, subsisting chiefly on wild berries. They crossed 
the upper Hudson, and, in thirteen days after leaving 
the St. Lawrence, neared the wretched goal of their pil- 
grimage, a palisaded town, standing on a hill by the 
banks of the River Mohawk. 

Such was the first recorded visit of white men to Lake 
George. In the L-oquois villages Jogues was subjected 
to the most frightful sufferings. His friend Goupil 
was murdered at his side, and lie himself was saved as 
by miracle. At length, with the help of the Dutch of 
Albany, he made his escape and sailed for France ; 
whence, impelled by religious enthusiasm, he returned 
to Canada and voluntarily set out again for the Iroquois 
towns, bent on saving the souls of those who had been 
the authors of his woes. Reaching the head of Lake 
George on Corpus Christi Day, 1646, he gave it the 
name of Lac St. Sacrement, by which it was ever 
after known to the French. Soon after his arrival the 
Iroquois killed him by the blow of a hatchet. 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 

TT^OR more than a centiuy after the death of Jogues, 
■*- Lakes George and Champlain were the great route 
of war parties between Canada and the British Colonies. 
Conrcelles came this way in 1666 to lay waste the Mo- 
hawk towns ; and Mantet and Sainte-H^lene, in 1690, 
to destroy Schenectady in the dead of winter ; while, 
in the next year, Major Schuyler took the same course 
as he advanced into Canada to retort the blow. When- 
ever there was war between France and England, these 
two lakes became the scene of partisan conflicts, in 
which the red men took part with the white, some as 
allies of the English, and some as allies of the French. 
When at length the final contest took place for the pos- 
session of the continent, the rival nations fiercely dis- 
puted the mastery of this great wilderness thoroughfare, 
and the borders of Lake George became the scene of 
noteworthy conflicts. The first of these was in 1755, 
the year of Braddock's defeat, when Shirley, governor of 
Massachusetts, set on foot an exi>edition for the capture 
of Crown Point, a fort which the French had built on 
Lake Champlain more than twenty years before. 

In January, Shirley had proposed an attack on it to 
the Ministry ; and in February, without waiting their 
reply, he laid the plan before his Assembly. They ac- 
cepted it, and voted money for the pay and maintenance 
of twelve hundred men, provided the adjacent colonies 



THE REGION OF 



from surveys made in 
• 1762 




BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 17 

would contribute in due proportion. Massachusetts 
showed a military activity worthy of the reputation she 
had won. Forty -live hundred of her men, or one in eight 
of her adult males, volunteered to fight the French, and 
enlisted for the various expeditions, some in the pay of 
the province, and some in that of the King. It remained 
to name a commander for the Crown Point enterprise. 
Nobody had power to do so, for Braddock, the com- 
mander-in-chief, was not yet come ; but that time might 
not be lost, Shirley, at the request of his Assembly, 
took the responsibility on himself. If he had named a 
Massachusetts officer, it would have roused the jealousy 
of the other New England colonies ; and he therefore 
ai)pointed William Johnson, of New York, thus gratifying 
that important province and pleasing the Five Nations, 
who at this time looked on Johnson with even more 
than usual favor. Hereupon, in reply to his request, 
Connecticut voted twelve hundred men, New Hampshire 
five hundred, and Rhode Island four hundred, all 
at their own charge ; while New York, a little later, 
promised eight hundred more. When, in Api'il, Brad- 
dock and the Council at Alexandria approved the plan 
and the commander, Shirley gave Johnson the com- 
mission of major-general of the levies of Massachusetts ; 
and the governors of the other provinces contributing to 
the expedition gave him similar commissions for their 
respective contingents. Never did general take the 
field with authority so heterogeneous. 

He had never seen service, and knew nothing of war. 
By birth he was Irish, of good family, being nephew of 
Admiral Sir Peter Warren, who, owning extensive wild 
lands on the Mohawk, had placed the young man in 
charge of them nearly twenty years before. Johnson 
was born to prosper. He had ambition, energy, an active 



18 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

mind, a tall, strong person, a rough, jovial temper, and a 
( I nick adaptation to his surroundings. He could drink 
flip with Dutch boors, or Madeira with royal governors. 
He liked the society of the great, would intrigue and flat- 
ter when he had an end to gain, and foil a rival without 
looking too closely at the means ; but compared with 
the Indian traders who infested the border, he was a 
model of uprightness. He lived by the Mohawk in a 
fortified house which was a stronghold against foes and 
a scene of hospitality to friends, both white and red. 
Here — for his tastes were not fastidious — presided for 
many years a Dutch or German wench whom he finally 
married ; and after her death a young Mohawk squaw 
took her place. Over his neighbors, the Indians of the 
Five Nations, and all others of their race with whom he 
had to deal, he acquired a remarkable influence. He 
liked them, adopted their ways, and treated them kindly 
or sternly as the case required, but always with a justice 
and honesty in strong contrast with the rascalities of 
the commission of Albany traders who had lately man- 
aged their affairs, and whom they so detested that one 
of their chiefs called them " not men, but devils." 
Hence, when Johnson was made Indian superintendent 
there was joy through all the Iroquois confederacy. 
When, in addition, he was made a general, he assembled 
the warriors in council to engage them to aid the 
expedition. 

This meeting took place at his own house, known as 
Fort Johnson; and as more than eleven hundred Ind- 
ians appeared at his call, his larder was sorely taxed 
to entertain them. The speeches were interminable. 
Johnson, a master of Indian rhetoric, knew his audience 
too well not to contest with them the palm of insuffer- 
able prolixity. The climax was readied on the fourth 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 19 

day, and he threw down the war-belt. An Oneida chief 
took it np ; Stevens, the interpreter, began the war- 
dance, and the assembled warriors howled in chorus. 
Then a tub of punch was brought in, and they all drank 
the King's health. They showed less alacrity, however, 
to fight his battles, and scarcely three hundred of them 
would take the war-path. Too many of their friends 
and relatives were enlisted for the French. 

While the British colonists were preparing to attack 
Crown Point, the French of Canada were preparing to 
defend it. Duquesne, recalled from his post, had re- 
signed the government to the Marquis de Vaudreuil, who 
had at his disposal the battalions of regulars that had 
sailed in the spring from Brest under Baron Dieskau. 
His first thought was to use them for the capture of 
Oswego ; but letters of Braddock, found on the battle- 
field of the Monongahela, warned him of the design 
against Crown Point ; while a reconnoitring party which 
had gone as far as the Hudson brought back news that 
Johnson's forces were already in the field. Therefore 
the plan was changed, and Dieskau was ordered to lead 
the main body of his troops, not to Lake Ontario, but 
to Lake Champlain. He passed up the Richelieu, and 
embarked in boats and canoes for Crown Point. The 
veteran knew that tiie foes with whom he had to deal 
were but a mob of countrymen. He doubted not of put- 
ting them to rout, and meant never to hold his hand till 
he had chased them back to Albany. " Make all haste," 
Vaudreuil wrote to him ; " for when you return we shall 
send you to Oswego to execute our first design." 

Johnson on his part was preparing to advance. In 
July about three thousand provincials were encamped 
near Albany, some on the " Flats " above the town, and 
some on the meadows below. Hitlier, too, came a swarm 



20 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

of Johnson's Mohawks, — warriors, squaws, and children. 
They adorned the General's face with war-paint, and he 
danced the war-dance ; then with his sword he cut the 
first slice from the ox that had been roasted whole 
for their entertainment. '' I shall be glad," wrote the 
surgeon of a New England regiment, " if they fight as 
eagerly as they ate their ox and drank their wine." 

Above all things the expedition needed promptness; 
yet everything moved slowly. Five popular legislatures 
controlled the troops and the supplies. Connecticut had 
refused to send her men till Shirley promised that her 
commanding officer should rank next to Johnson. The 
whole movement was for some time at a deadlock because 
the five governments could not agree about their con- 
tributions of artillery and stores. The New Hampshire 
regiment had taken a short cut for Crown Point across 
the wilderness of Vermont ; but had boon recalled in time 
to save them from probable destruction. They were now 
with the rest in the camp at Albany, in such distress 
for provisions that a private subscription was proposed 
for their relief. 

Johnson's army, crude as it was, had in it good mate- 
rial. Here was Phineas Lyman, of Connecticut, second 
in command, once a tutor at Yale College, and more 
recently a lawyer, — a raw soldier, but a vigorous and 
brave one ; Colonel Moses Titcomb, of Massachusetts, 
who had fought with credit at Louisbourg; and Ephraim 
Williams, also colonel of a Massachusetts regiment, a 
tall and portly man, who had been a captain in the last 
war, member of the General Court, and deputy-sheriff. 
He made his will in the camp at Albany, and left a 
legacy to found the school wliicli has since become Wil- 
linms College. His relative, Stpphon Williams, was 
chaplain of his regiment, and his brotlier Thomas was 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEOEGE. 21 

its surgeon. Seth Foineroy, gunsmith at Northampton, 
who, like Titcomb, had seen service at Louisbourg, was 
its lieutenant-colonel. He had left a wife at home, an 
excellent matron, to whom he was continually writing 
affectionate letters, mnigiing household cares with news 
of the camp, and charging her to see that their eldest 
boy, 8eth, then in college at New Haven, did not run off' 
to the army. Pomeroy had with him his brother Daniel ; 
and this he thought was enough. Here, too, was a man 
whose name is still a household word in New England, 
— the sturdy Israel Putnam, private in a Connecticut 
regiment ; and another as bold as he, John Stark, lieu- 
tenant in the New Hampshire levies, and the future 
victor of Bennington. 

The soldiers were no soldiers, but farmers and farmers' 
sons who had volunteered for the summer campaign. 
One of the corps had a blue uniform faced with red. 
The rest wore their daily clothing. Blankets had been 
served out to them by the several provinces, but the 
greater part brought their own guns ; some under the 
penalty of a fine if they came without them, and some 
under the inducement of a reward. They had no bay- 
onets, but carried hatchets in their belts as a sort of 
substitute. At their sides were slung powder-horns, on 
which, in the leisure of the camp, they carved quaint 
devices with the points of their jack-knives. They came 
chiefly from plain New England homesteads, — rustic 
abodes, unpainted and dingy, with long well-sweeps, 
capacious barns, rough fields of pumpkins and corn, 
and vast kitchen chimneys, above which in winter hung 
squashes to keep them from frost, and guns to keep 
them from rust. 

As to the manners and morals of the army there is 
conflict of evidence. In some respects nothing could 



22 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

be more exemplary. " Not a chicken lias been stolen," 
says William Smith, of New Yorlv ; while, on the other 
hand, Colonel Ephraim Williams writes to Colonel 
Israel Williams, then connnanding- on the Massachusetts 
frontier: " We are a wicked, profane army, especially the 
New York and Rhode Island troops. Nothing to be 
heard among a great part of them but tlie language of 
Hell. If Crown Point is taken, it will not be for our 
sakes, but for those good people left behind." There 
was edifying regularity in respect to form. Sermons 
twice a week, daily prayers, and frequent psalm- 
singing alternated with the much-needed military drill. 
" Prayers among us night and morning," writes Private 
Jonathan Caswell, of Massachusetts, to his father. 
" Here we lie, knowing not when we shall march for 
Crown Point ; but I hope not long to tarry. Desiring 
your prayers to God for me as I am agoing to war, I 
am Your Ever Dutiful Son." 

To Pomcroy and some of his brothers in arms it 
seemed that they were engaged in a kind of crusade 
against the myrmidons of Rome. " As you have at 
heart the Protestant cause," he wrote to his friend 
Israel Williams, " so I ask an interest in your prayers 
that the Lord of Hosts would go forth with us and give 
lis victory over our unreasonable, encroaching, barbarous, 
murdering enemies." 

Both Williams the surgeon and Williams the colonel 
chafed at the incessant delays. " The expedition goes 
on very much as a snail runs," writes the former to his 
wife ; -' it seems we may possibly see Crown Point this 
time twelve months." The Colonel was vexed because 
everything was out of joint in the department of trans- 
portation : wagoners mutinous for want of pay ; ordnance 
stores, camp-kettles, and provisions left behind. "'As to 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEOKGE. 23 

rum," he complains, " it won't hold out nine weeks. 
Things appear most melancholy to me." Even as he 
was writing, a report came of the defeat of Braddock ; 
and, shocked at the blow, his pen traced the words: " The 
Lord have mercy on poor New England ! " 

Johnson had sent four Mohawk scouts to Canada. 
They returned on the twenty-first of August with the 
report that the French were all astir with preparation, 
and that eight thousand men were coming to defend 
Crown Point. On this a council of war was called ; and 
it was resolved to send to the several colonies for 
reinforcements. Meanwhile the main body had moved 
up the river to the spot called the Great Carrying Place, 
where Lyman had begun a fortified storehouse, which 
his men called Fort Lyman, but which was afterwards 
named Fort Edward, Two Indian trails led from this 
point to the waters of Lake Champlain, one by way of 
Lake George, and the other l>y way of Wood Creek. 
There was doubt which course the army should take. 
A road was begun to Wood Creek ; then it was counter- 
manded, and a party was sent to explore the path to 
Lake George. " With submission to the general of- 
ficers," Surgeon Williams again writes, " I think it a 
very grand mistake that the business of reconnoitring 
was not done months agone." It was resolved at last 
to march for Lake George ; gangs of axemen were sent 
to hew out the way ; and on the twenty-sixth two thou- 
sand men were ordered to the lake, while Colonel 
Blanchard, of New Hampshire, remained with five hun- 
dred to finish and defend Fort Lyman. 

The train of Dutch wagons, guarded by the homely 
soldiery, jolted slowly over the stumps and roots of the 
newly made road, and the regiments followed at their 
leisure. The hardships of the way were not without 



24 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CUAMPLAIN. 

their consolations. The jovial Irishman who held the 
chief command made himself very agreeable to the New 
England officers. " We went on about four or five miles," 
says Pomeroy in his Journal, ••' then stop})ed, ate pieces of 
broken bread and cheese, and drank some fresh lemon- 
punch and the best of wine with General Johnson and 
some of the field-officers." It was the same on the next 
day. " Stopped about noon and dined with General 
Johnson by a small bi'ook under a tree ; ate a good 
dinner of cold boiled and roast venison ; drank good 
fresh lemon-punch and wine." 

That afternoon they reached their destination, four- 
teen miles from Fort Lyman. The most beautiful lake 
in America lay before them ; then more beautiful than 
now, in the wild charm of untrodden mountains and 
virgin forests. " I have given it the name of Lake 
George," wrote Johnson to the Lords of Trade, " not 
only in honor of His Majesty, but to ascertain his un- 
doubted dominion here." His men made tlieir camp 
on a piece of rough ground by the edge of the water, 
pitching their tents among the stumps of the newly 
felled trees. In their front was a forest of pitch-pine ; 
on their right, a marsh, choked with alders and swamp- 
maples ; on their left, the low hill where Fort George 
was afterwards built ; and at their rear, the lake. Little 
was done to clear the forest in front, though it would 
give excellent cover to an enemy. Nor did Johnson 
take much pains to learn the movements of the Frcncli 
in the direction of Crown Point, though he sent scouts 
towards South Bay and Wood Creek. Every day stores 
and bateaux, or flat boats, came on wagons from Fort 
Lyman ; and preparation moved on with the leisure that 
had marked it from the first. About three hundred 
Mohawks came to the camp, and were regarded by the 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEOKGE. 25 

New England men as nuisances. On Sunday the gray- 
haired Stephen Williams preached to these savage allies 
a long Calvinistic sermon, which must have sorely per- 
plexed the interpreter whose business it was to turn 
it into Mohawk ; and in the afternoon young Chaplain 
Newell, of Rhode Island, expounded to the New England 
men the somewhat untimely text, " Love your enemies." 
On the next Sunday, September seventh, Williams 
preached again, this time to the whites from a text 
in Isaiah. It was a peaceful day, fair and warm, with 
a few light showers ; yet not wholly a day of rest, for 
two hundred wagons came up from Fort Lyman, loaded 
with bateaux. After the sermon there was an alarm. 
An Indian scout came in about sunset, and reported 
that ho had found the trail of a body of men moving 
from South Bay towards Fort Lyman. Johnson called 
for a volunteer to carry a letter of warning to Colonel 
Blanchard, the commander. A wagoner named Adams 
offered himself for the perilous service, mounted, and 
galloped along the road with the letter. Sentries were 
posted, and the camp fell asleep. 

While Johnson lay at Lake George, Dieskau prepared 
a surprise for him. The German Baron had reached 
Crown Point at the head of three thousand five hundred 
and seventy-three men, regulars, Canadians, and Indians. 
He had no thought of waiting there to be attacked. The 
troops were told to hold themselves ready to move at 
a moment's notice. Officers — so ran the order — will 
take nothing with them but one spare shirt, one spare 
pair of shoes, a blanket, a bearskin, and provisions for 
twelve days ; Indians are not to amuse themselves by 
taking scalj)s till the enemy is entirely defeated, since 
they can kill ten men in the time required to scalp one. 
Then Dieskau moved on, with nearly all his force, to 



26 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

Carillon, or Ticondcroga, a promontory commanding 
both the routes by which alone Johnson could advance, 
that of Wood Creek and that of Lake George. 

The Indian allies were commanded by Legardeur de 
Saint-Pierre. These unmanageable warriors were a con- 
stant annoyance to Dieskau, being a species of humanity 
quite new to him. "They drive us crazy," he says, 
"from morning till night. There is no end to their 
demands. They have already eaten live oxen and as 
many hogs, without counting the kegs of brandy they 
have drunk. In short, one needs the patience of an 
angel to get on with these devils ; and yet one must 
always force himself to seem pleased with them." 

They would scarcely even go out as scouts. At last, 
however, on the fourth of September, a reconnoitring 
party came in with a seal}) and an English prisoner 
caught near Fort Lyman. He was questioned under the 
threat of being given to the Indians for torture if he did 
not tell the truth ; but, nothing daunted, he invented a 
patriotic falsehood ; and thinking to lure his captors 
into a trap, told them that the English army had fallen 
back to Albany, leaving five hundred men at Fort 
Lyman, which he represented as indefensible. Dieskau 
resolved on a rapid movement to seize the place. At 
noon of the same day, leaving a part of his force at 
Ticonderoga, he embarked the rest in canoes and ad- 
vanced along the narrow prolongation of Lake Cham- 
plain that stretched southward through the wilderness 
to where the town of Whitehall now stands. He soon 
came to a point where the lake dwindled to a mere canal, 
while two mighty rocks, capped with stunted forests, 
faced each other from the opposing banks. Here he 
left an officer named Roquomaure with a detachment 
of troops, and again advanced along a belt of qiuet water 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 27 

traced through the midst of a deep marsh, green at 
that season with sedge and water- weeds, and known 
to the English as the Drowned Lands. Beyond, on 
either hand, crags feathered with birch and fir, or hills 
mantled with woods, looked down on the long procession 
of canoes. As they neared the site of Whitehall, a pas- 
sage opened on the right, the entrance to a sheet of 
lonely water slumbering in the shadow of woody moun- 
tains, and forming the lake then, as now, called South 
Bay. They advanced to its head, landed where a small 
stream enters it, left the canoes under a guard, and 
began their march through the forest. They counted 
in all two hundred and sixteen regulars of the battalions 
of Languedoc and La Reine, six hundred and eighty- 
four Canadians, and about six hundred Lidians. Every 
officer and man carried provisions for eight days in his 
knapsack. They encamped at night by a brook, and in 
the morning, after hearing Mass, marched again. The 
evening of the next day brought them near the road that 
led to Lake George. Fort Lyman was but three miles 
distant. A man on horseback galloped by ; it was 
Adams, Johnson's unfortunate messenger. The Lidians 
shot him, and found the letter in his pocket. Soon 
after, ten or twelve wagons appeared in charge of mu- 
tinous drivers, who had left the English camp without 
orders. Several of them were shot, two were taken, and 
the rest ran off. The two captives declared that, con- 
trary to the assertion of the prisoner at Ticonderoga, a 
large force lay encamped at the lake. The Indians now 
held a council, and presently gave out that they would 
not attack the fort, which they thought well supplied 
with cannon, but that they were willing to attack the 
camp at Lake George. Remonstrance was lost upon 
them. Dieskau was not young, but he was daring to 



28 LAKE GEOKUE AND LAKE ClIAMPLAIN. 

rashness, and inflamed to emulation by the victory over 
Eraddock. The enemy were reported greatly to outnum- 
ber him ; but his Canadian advisers had assured him 
that the English colony militia were the worst troops 
t)n the face of the earth. " The more there are," Ik; 
said to the Canadians and Indians, "the more we shall 
kill ; " and in the morning the order was given to march 
for the lake. 

They moved rajjidly on through the waste of pines, 
and soon entered the rugged volley that led to Johnson's 
camp. On their right was a gorge where, shadowed in 
bushes, gurgled a gloomy brook; and beyond rose the 
cliffs that buttressed the rocky heights of French Moun- 
tain, seen by glimpses between the boughs. On their 
left rose gradually the lower slopes of West Mountain. 
All was rock, thicket, and forest ; there was no open 
space but the road along which the regulars marched, 
while the Canadians and Indians pushed their way 
through the woods in such order as the broken ground 
would permit. 

They were three miles from the lake, when their 
scouts brought in a prisoner who told them that a col- 
umn of English troops was approaching. Dieskau's 
preparations were quickly made. While the regulars 
halted on the road, the Canadians and Indians moved 
to the front, where most of them hid in the forest along 
the slopes of West Mountain, and the rest lay close 
among the thickets on the other side. Thus, when the 
English advanced to attack the regulars in front, they 
would find themselves caught in a double ambush. No 
sight or sound betrayed the snare ; but behind every 
bush crouched a Canadian or a savage, with gun cocked 
and ears intent, listening for the tramp of the approach- 
ing column. 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 29 

The wagoners who escaped the evening before had 
reached the camp about midnight, and reported that 
there was a war-party on the road near Fort Lyman. 
Johnson had at this time twenty-two hundred eiiective 
men, besides his three lumdred Indians. He called a 
council of war in the morning, and a resolution was 
taken which can only be explained by a complete mis- 
conception as to the force of the French. It was de- 
termined to send out two detachments of five hundred 
men each, one towards Fort Lyman, and the other 
towards South Bay, the object being, according to John- 
son, " to catch the enemy in their retreat." Hendrick, 
chief of the Mohawks, a brave and sagacious warrior, 
expressed his dissent after a fashion of his own. He 
picked up a stick and broke it ; then he picked up 
several sticks, and showed that together they could not 
be broken. The hint was taken, and the two detach- 
ments were joined in one. Still the old savage shook 
his head. "If they are to be killed," he said, "they 
are too many ; if they are to fight, they are too few." 
Nevertheless, he resolved to share their fortunes ; and 
mounting on a gun-carriage, he harangued his warriors 
with a voice so animated, and gestures so expressive, 
that the New England officers listened in admiration, 
tliough they understood not a word. One difficulty 
remained. He was too old and fat to go afoot ; but 
Johnson lent him a horse, which he bestrode, and trotted 
to the head of the column, folloAved by two hundred of 
his warriors as fast as they could grease, paint, and 
befeather themselves. 

Captain Elisha HaAvley was in his tent, finishing a 
letter which he had just written to his brother Joseph ; 
and these were the last words : " I am this minute ago- 
ing out in company with five hundred men to see if we 



oO LAKE GEOR(iE AND LAKE CI 1AM PLAIN. 

can intercept 'em in their retreat, or find their canoes 
in the Drowned Lands ; and therefore nuist conchide 
this letter." He closed and directed it ; and in an hour 
received his death-wound. 

It was soon after eight o'clock when Ephraim Wil- 
liams left the camp with his regiment, marched a little 
distance, and then waited for the rest of the detachment 
under Lieutenant-Colonel Whiting. Thus Dieskau had 
full time to lay his ambush. When Whiting came up, 
the whole moved on together, so little conscious of dan- 
ger that no scouts were thrown out in front or flank ; 
and, in full security, they entered the fatal snare. Be- 
fore they were completely involved in it, the sharp eye 
of old Hendrick detected some sign of an enemy. At 
that instant, whether by accident or design, a gun was 
fired from the bushes. It is said that Dieskau's Iroquois, 
seeing Mohawks, their relatives, in the ran, wished to 
warn them of danger. If so, the warning came too late. 
The thickets on the left blazed out a deadly fire, and 
the men fell by scores. In the words of Dieskau, the 
head of the column "was doubled up like a pack of 
cards." Hendrick's horse waf? shot down, and the chief 
was killed with a bayonet as he tried to rise. Williams, 
seeing a i-ising ground on his riglit, made for it, calling 
on his men to follow ; but as he climbed the slope, guns 
dashed from the bushes, and a shot through the brain 
laid him dead. The men in the rear pressed forward 
to support their comrades, when a hot fire was suddenly 
o])cned on them from the forest along their right flank. 
Then there was a panic ; some fled outright, and the 
whole column recoiled. The van now became the rear, 
and all the force of the enemy rushed upon it, shouting 
and screeching. Tliere was a moment of total confusion ; 
but a part of Williams's regiment rallied under command 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 31 

of Whiting, and covered the retreat, fighting behind trees 
like Indians, and firing and falling back by turns, bravely 
aided by some of the Mohawks and by a detachment 
which Johnson sent to their aid. " And a very hand- 
some retreat they made," writes Pomeroy ; " and so 
continued till they came within about three quarters of 
a mile of our camp. This was the last fire our men gave 
our enemies, which killed great numbers of them ; they 
were seen to drop as pigeons." So ended the fray long 
known in Ncav England fireside story as the " bloody 
morning scout." Dieskau now ordered a halt, and 
sounded his trumpets to collect his scattered men. His 
Indians, however, were sullen and unmanageable, and 
the Canadians also show^ed signs of wavering. The 
veteran who commanded them all, Legardeur de Saint- 
Pierre, had been killed. At length they were persuaded 
to move again, the regulars leading the way. 

About an hour after Williams and his men had begun 
their march, a distant rattle of musketry was heard at 
the camp; and as it grew nearer and louder, the lis- 
teners knew that their comrades were on the retreat. 
Then, at the eleventh hour, preparations were begun for 
defence. A sort of barricade was made along the front 
of the camp, partly of wagons, and partly of inverted 
bateaux, but chiefly of the trunks of trees hastily hewn 
down in the neighboring forest and laid end to end in 
a single row. The line extended from the southern 
slopes of the hill on the left across a tract of rough 
ground to the marshes on the right. The forest, choked 
with bushes and clumps of rank ferns, was within a few 
yards of the barricade, and there was scarcely time to 
hack away the intervening thickets. Three cannon were 
planted to sweep the road that descended through the 
pines, and another was dragged up to the ridge of the 



22 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

hill. The defeated i)arty began to come in ; first, scared 
fugitives both white and red ; then, gangs of men bring- 
ing the wounded ; and at last, an hour and a half after 
the first fire was heard, the main detachment was seen 
marching in compact bodies down the road. 

Five hundred men were detailed to guard the flanks 
of the camp. The rest stood behind the wagons or lay 
flat behind the logs and inverted bateaux, the Massachu- 
setts men on the right, and the Connecticut men on the 
left. Besides Indians, this actual fighting force was 
between sixteen and seventeen hundred rustics, very few 
of whom had been under fire before that morning. They 
were hardly at their posts when they saw ranks of white- 
coated soldiers moving down the road, and bayonets 
that to them seemed innumerable glittering between the 
boughs. At the same time a terrific burst of war-whoops 
rose along the front ; and, in the words of Pomeroy, 
" the Canadians and Indians, helter-skelter, the woods 
full of them, came running with undaunted courage right 
down the hill upon us, expecting to make us flee." 
Some of the men grew uneasy ; while the chief officers, 
sword in hand, threatened instant death to any who 
should stir from their posts. If Dieskau had made an 
assault at that instant, there could be little doubt of the 
result. 

This he well knew ; but he was powerless. He had 
his small force of regulars well in hand ; but the rest, 
red and white, were beyond control, scattering through 
the woods and swamps, shouting, yelling, and firing from 
behind trees. The regulars advanced with intrepidity to- 
wards the camp where the trees were thin, deployed, and 
fired by platoons, till Captain Eyre, who commanded the 
artillery, opened on them with grape, broke their ranks, 
and compelled them to take to cover. The fusillade 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 33 

was now general on both sides, and soon grew furious. 
" Perhaps," Seth Pomeroy wrote to his wife, two days 
after, " the hailstones from heaven were never much 
thicker than their bullets came ; but, blessed be God ! 
that did not in the least daunt or disturb us." Johnson 
received a flesh-wound in the thigh, and spent the rest 
of the day in his tent. Lyman took command ; and it 
is a marvel that he escaped alive, for lie was four hours 
in the heat of the fire, directing and animating the men. 
" It was the most awful day my eyes ever beheld," wrote 
Surgeon Williams to his wife ; " there seemed to be 
nothing but thunder and lightning and perpetual pillars 
of smoke." To him, his colleague Doctor Pynchon, one 
assistant, and a young student called " Billy," fell the 
charge of the wounded of his regiment. " The bullets 
flew about our ears all the time of dressing them ; so 
we thought best to leave our tent and retire a few rods 
behind the shelter of a log-house." On the adjacent hill 
stood one Blodget, who seems to have been a sutler, 
watching, as well as bushes, trees, and smoke would let 
him, the progress of the fight, of which he soon after 
made and published a curious bird's-eye view. As the 
wounded men were carried to the rear, the wagoners 
about the camp took their guns and powder-horns, and 
joined in the fray. A Mohawk, seeing one of these men 
still unarmed, leaped over the barricade, tomahawked 
the nearest Canadian, snatched his gun, and darted back 
unhurt. The brave savage found no imitators among 
his tribesmen, most of whom did nothing but utter a few 
war-whoops, saying that they had come to see their 
English brothers fight. Some of the French Indians 
o])ened a distant flank fire from the high ground beyond 
the swamp on the right, but were driven off by a few 
shells dropped among them. 



o4 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

Dieskau had directed his first attack against the left 
and centre of Johnson's position. Making no impression 
here, he tried to force the right, where lay the regiments 
of Titcomb, Ruggles, and Williams. The fire was hot 
for about an hour. Titcomb was shot dead, a rod in 
front of the barricade, firing from behind a tree like a 
common soldier. At length Dicskau, exposing himself 
within short range of the English line, was hit in the 
leg. His adjutant, Montreuil, himself wounded, came to 
his aid, and was washing the injured limb with brandy, 
when the unfortunate commander was again hit in the 
knee and thigh. He seated himself behind a tree, while 
the Adjutant called two Canadians to carry him to the 
rear. One of them was instantly shot down. Montreuil 
took his place ; but Dieskau refused to be moved, bitterly 
denounced the Canadians and Indians, and ordered the 
Adjutant to leave him and lead the regulars in a last 
effort against the camp. 

It was too late. Johnson's men, singly or in small 
squads, were already crossing their row of logs ; and in 
a few moments the whole daslicd forward with a shout, 
falling upon the enemy with hatchets and the butts of 
their guns. The French and their allies fled. The 
wounded General still sat helpless by the tree, when he 
saw a soldier aiming at him. He signed to the man not 
to fire ; but he pulled trigger, shot him across the hips, 
leaped upon him, and ordered him in French to surren- 
der. "I said," writes Dieskau, "'You rascal, why did 
you fire? You see a man lying in his blood on the 
ground, and you shoot him ! ' He answered : ' How did 
I know that you had not got a i)istol ? I had rather kill 
the devil than have the devil kill me.' 'You are a 
Frenchman?' I asked. ' Yes,' he replied ; ' it is more 
than ten vears since I left Canada ; ' whereupon several 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 35 

others fell on me and stripped me. I told them to carry 
me to their general, which they did. On learning who 1 
was, he sent for surgeons, and, though wounded himself, 
refused all assistance till my wounds were dressed." 

It was near five o'clock when the final rout took place. 
Some time before, several hundred of the Canadians and 
Indians had left the field and returned to the scene of 
the morning fight, to plunder and scalp the dead. They 
were resting themselves near a pool in the forest, close 
beside the road, when their repose was interrupted by 
a volley of bullets. It was fired by a scouting party 
from Fort Lyman, chiefly backwoodsmen, under Captains 
Folsom and McGinnis. The assailants were greatly 
outnumbered ; but after a hard fight the Canadians 
and Indians broke and fled. McGinnis was mortally 
wounded. He continued to give orders till the firing 
was over ; then fainted, and was carried, dying, to the 
camp. The bodies of the slain, according to tradition, 
were thrown into the \)0<)\, which bears to this day the 
name of Bloody Pond. 

The various bands of fugitives rejoined each other 
towards night, and encamped in the forest ; then made 
their way round the southern shoulder of French Moun- 
tain, till, in the next evening, they reached their canoes. 
Their plight was deplorable ; for they had left their 
knapsacks behind, and were spent with fatigue and 
famine. 

Meanwhile their captive general was not yet out of 
danger. The Mohawks were furious at their losses in 
the ambush of the morning, and above all at the death 
of Hendrick. Scarcely were Dieskau's wounds dressed, 
when several of them came into tlie tent. There was a 
long and angry dispute in their own language between 
them and Johnson, after which they went out very 



36 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

sullenly. Dieskau asked what they wanted. " What do 
they want ? " returned Johnson. " To burn you, by 
God, eat you, and smoke you in their i)i})cs, in revenge 
for three or four of their chiefs that were killed. But 
never fear ; you shall be safe with me, or else they shall 
kill us both." The Mohawks soon came back, and another 
talk ensued, excited at first, and then more calm ; till 
at length the visitors, seemingly appeased, smiled, gave 
Dieskau their hands in sign of friendship, and quietly 
went out again. Johnson warned him that he was not 
yet safe ; and wdien the prisoner, fearing that his pres- 
ence might incommode his host, asked to be removed to 
another tent, a captain and fifty men were ordered to 
guard him. In the morning an Indian, alone and appar- 
ently unarmed, loitered about the entrance, and the 
stupid sentinel let him pass in. He immediately drew 
a sword from under a sort of cloak which he wore, and 
tried to stab Dieskau ; but was prevented by the colonel 
to whom the tent belonged, who seized upon him, took 
away his sword, and pushed him out. As soon as his 
wounds would permit, Dieskau was carried on a litter, 
strongly escorted, to Fort Lyman, whence he was sent 
to Albany, and afterwards to New York. He is profuse 
in expressions of gratitude for the kindness shown him 
by the colonial officers, and especially by Johnson. Of 
the provincial soldiers he remarked soon after the battle 
that in the morning they fought like good boys, about 
noon like men, and in the afternoon like devils. In the 
spring of 1757 he sailed for England, and was for a 
time at Falmouth ; whence Colonel Matthew Sewell, 
fearing that he might see and learn too much, wrote to 
the Earl of Holdernesse : " The Baron has great pene- 
tration and quickness of a])prehension. His long service 
under Marshal Saxe renders him a man of real conse- 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 37 

quence, to be cautiously observed. His circumstances 
deserve compassion, for indeed they are very melancholy, 
and I much doubt of his being ever perfectly cured." 
He was afterwards a long time at Bath, for the benefit 
of the waters. In 17(30 the famous Diderot met him at 
Paris, cheerful and full of anecdote, though wretchedly 
shattered by his wounds. He died a few years later. 

On the night after the battle the yeomen warriors felt 
the truth of the saying that, next to defeat, the saddest 
thing is victory. Comrades and friends by scores lay 
scattered through the forest. As soon as he could snatch 
a moment's leisure, the overworked surgeon sent the 
dismal tidings to his wife : " My dear brother Ephraim 
was killed by a ball through his head ; poor brother 
Josiah's wound I fear will prove mortal ; poor Captain 
Hawley is yet alive, though I did not think he would 
live two hours after bringing him in." Daniel Pomeroy 
was shot dead ; and his brother Seth wrote the news 
to his wife Rachel, who was just delivered of a child : 
" Dear Sister, this brings heavy tidings ; but let not 
your heart sink at the news, though it be your loss of a 
dear husband. Monday the eighth instant was a mem- 
orable day ; and truly you may say, had not the Lord 
been on our side, we must all have been swallowed up. 
My brother, being one that went out in the first engage- 
ment, received a fatal shot through the middle of the 
head." Seth Pomei'oy found a moment to write also to 
his own wife, whom he tells that another attack is ex- 
pected ; adding, in quaintly pious phrase : " But as God 
hath begun to show mercy, I hope he will go on to be 
gracious." Pomeroy was employed during the next few 
days with four hundred men in what he calls " the 
melancholy piece of business" of burying the dead. A 
letter-writer of the time does not approve what was done 



38 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

on this occasion. " Our people," he says, " not only 
buried the French dead, but buried as many of them as 
might be without the knowledge of our Indians, to jjre- 
vent their being scalped. This I call an excess of civil- 
ity ; " his reason being that Braddock's dead soldiers 
had been left to the wolves. 

The English loss in killed, wounded, and missing was 
two hundred and sixty-two ; and that of the French, by 
their own account, two hundred and twenty-eight, — a 
somewhat modest result of five hours' fighting. The 
English loss was chiefly in the ambush of the morning, 
where the killed greatly outnumbered the wounded, 
because those who fell and could not be carried away 
were tomahawked by Dieskau's Indians. In the fight 
at the camp, both Indians and Canadians kept them- 
selves so well under cover that it was very difticult for 
the New England men to pick them off, Avhile they on 
their part lay close behind their row of logs. On the 
French side, the regular officers and troops bore the 
brunt of the battle and suffered the chief loss, nearly all 
of the former and nearly half of the latter being killed 
or wounded. 

Johnson did not follow up his success. He says that 
his men were tired. Yet five hundred of them had 
stood still all day, and boats enough for their transpor- 
tation were lying on the beach. Ten miles down the 
lake, a path led over a gorge of the mountains to South 
Bay, where Dieskau had left his canoes and provisions. 
It needed but a few hours to reach and destroy them ; 
but no such attempt was made. Nor, till a week after, 
did Johnson send out scouts to learn the strength of the 
enemy at Ticonderoga. Lyman strongly urged him to 
make an effort to seize that important pass ; but Johnson 
thoui^ht only of holding his own jiosition. " I think," 



BATTLE OF LAKE GEORGE. 39 

he wrote, " we may expect very shortly a more formi- 
dable attack." He made a solid breastwork to defend 
his camp ; and as reinforcements arrived, set them at 
building a fort, which he named Fort William Henry, 
on a rising ground by the lake. It is true that just after 
the battle he was dehcient in stores, and had not bateaux 
enough to move his whole force. It is true, also, that 
he was wounded, and that he was too jealous of Lyman 
to delegate the command to him ; and so the days passed 
till, within a fortnight, his nimble enemy were intrenched 
at Ticonderoga in force enough to defy him. 

The Crown Point expedition was a failure disguised 
under an incidental success. 



A WINTER RAID. 

^T 7HILE Johnson was building Fort William Henry 
^^ at one end of Lake George, the French began 
Fort Ticonderoga at the other, though they did not 
finish it till the next year. In the winter of 1757, 
hearing that the English were making great prepara- 
tions at Fort William Henry to attack them, they 
resolved to anticipate the blow and seize that post by 
surprise. To this end, Vaudreuil, Governor of Canada, 
sent a large detachment from Montreal, while the small 
body of troops and provincials who occupied the English 
fort remained wholly ignorant of the movement. 

On St. Patrick's Day, the seventeenth of March, the 
Irish soldiers who formed a part of the garrison of Fort 
William Henry were paying homage to their patron 
saint in libations of heretic rum, the product of New 
England stills ; and it is said that John Stark's rangers 
forgot theological differences in their zeal to share the 
festivity. The story adds that they were restrained 
by their commander, and that their enforced sobriety 
proved the saving of the fort. This may be doubted ; 
for without counting the English soldiers of the garrison 
who had no special call to be dnmk that day, the fort 
was in no danger till twenty-four hours after, when the 
revellers had had time to rally from their pious carouse. 
Whether rangers or British soldiers, it is certain that 
watchmen were on the alert during the night between 



A WINTER RAID. 41 

the eighteenth and nineteenth, and that towards one in 
the morning thej heard a sonnd of axes far down the 
lake, followed by the faint glow of a distant fire. The 
inference was plain, that an enemy was there, and that 
the necessity of warming himself had overcome his cau- 
tion. Then all was still for some two hours, when, 
listening in the pitchy darkness, the watchers heard the 
footsteps of a great body of men approaching on the ice, 
which at the time was bare of snow. The garrison were 
at their posts, and all the cannon on the side towards 
the lake vomited grape and round-shot in the direction 
of the sound, which thereafter was heard no more. 

Those who made it were the detachment, called by 
Vaudreuil an army, sent by him to seize the English 
fort. Shirley had planned a similar stroke against 
Ticonderoga a year before ; but the provincial levies had 
come in so slowly, and the ice had broken up so soon, 
that the scheme was abandoned. Vaudreuil was more 
fortunate. The whole force, regulars, Canadians, and 
Indians, was ready to his hand. No pains were spared 
in equipping them. Overcoats, blankets, bearskins to 
sleep on, tarpaulins to sleep under, spare moccasons, 
spare mittens, kettles, axes, needles, awls, flint and 
steel, and many miscellaneous articles were provided, to 
be dragged by the men on light Indian sledges, along 
with provisions for twelve days. The cost of the ex- 
pedition is set at a million francs, answering to more 
than as many dollars of the present time. To the dis- 
gust of the officers from France, the Governor named 
his brother Rigaud for the chief command ; and before 
the end of February the whole party was on its march 
along the ice of Lake Champlain. They rested nearly 
a week at Ticonderoga, where no less than three hun- 
dred short scaling-ladders, so constructed that two or 



42 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

more could be joined in one, had been made for them ; 
and here, too, they received a reinforcement, which 
raised their number to sixteen hundred. Then, march- 
ing three days along Lake George, they nearcd the fort 
on the evening of the eighteenth, and prepared for a 
general assault before daybreak. 

The garrison, including rangers, consisted of three 
hundred and forty-six effective men. The fort was not 
strong, and a resolute assault by numbers so superior 
must, it seems, have overpowered the defenders ; but 
the Canadians and Indians who composed most of the 
attacking force were not suited for sucli work ; and, 
disappointed in his hope of a surpi'ise, Rigaud witlidrew 
them at daybreak, after trying in vain to burn the 
buildings outside. A few hours after, the whole body 
rea})peared, filing off to surround the fort, on which they 
kept u}) a brisk but harmless fire of musketry. In the 
night they were heard again on the ice, approaching as 
if for an assault; and the cannon, firing towards the 
sound, again drove them back. There was silence for 
a while, till tongues of flame lighted up the gloom, and 
two sloops, ice-bound in the lake, and a large number of 
bateaux on the shore were seen to bo on fire. A party 
sallied to save them; but it was too late. In the 
morning they were all consumed, and the enemy had 
vanished. 

It was Sunday, the twentieth. Everything was quiet 
till noon, when the French filed out of the woods and 
marched across the ice in procession, ostentatiously 
carrying their scaling-ladders, and showing themselves 
to the best effect. They stopped at a safe distance, 
fronting towards the fort, and several of them advanced, 
waving a red flag. An officer with a few men went to 
meet them, and returned bringing Lc JMorcier, chief of 



A WINTER RAID. 43 

the Canadian artillery, who, being led blindfold into the 
fort, announced himself as bearer of a message from 
Rigaud. Pie was conducted to the room of Major Eyre, 
where all the British officers were assembled ; and, after 
mutual compliments, he invited them to give up the 
])lace peaceably, promising the most favorable tei-ms, 
and threatening a general assault and massacre in case 
of refusal. Eyre said that he should defend himself to 
the last; and the envoy, again blindfolded, was led back 
to whence he came. 

The whole French force now advanced as if to storm 
the works, and the garrison prepared to receive them. 
Nothing came of it l)ut a fusillade, to which the British 
made no repl\'. At night the Fi-ench were heard ad- 
vancing again, and each man nerved himself for the 
crisis. The real attack, however, was not against the 
fort, but against the buildings outside, which consisted 
of several storehouses, a hospital, a saw-mill, and the 
huts of the rangers, besides a sloop on the stocks and 
jjiles of planks and cord-Avood. Covered by the night, 
the assailants crept up with fagots of resinous sticks, 
jjlaced them against the farther side of the buildings, 
kindled them, and escaped before the flame rose ; while 
the garrison, straining their ears in the thick darkness, 
fired wherever they heard a sound. Before moi-ning all 
around them was in a blaze, and they had much ado to 
save the fort barracks from the shower of burning 
cinders. At ten o'clock the fires had subsided, and a 
thick fall of snow began, filling the air with a restless 
chaos of large moist flakes. This lasted all day and all 
the next night, till the ground and the ice were covered 
to a depth of three feet and more. The French lay 
close in their camps till a little before dawn on Tuesday 
morning, when twenty volunteers from the regulars 



44 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

made a bold attempt to burn the sloop on the stocks, 
with several storehouses and other structures, and 
several hundred scows and whaleboats which had thus 
far escaped. They were only in part successful; but 
they fired the sloop and some buildings near it, and 
stood far out on the ice watching the flaming vessel, a 
superb bonfire amid the wilderness of snow. The 
spectacle cost the volunteers a fourth of their number 
killed and wounded. 

On Wednesday morning the sun rose bright on a 
scene of wintry splendor, and the frozen lake was dotted 
with Rigaud's retreating followers toiling towards Can- 
ada on snow-shoes. Before they reached it many of 
them were blinded for a while by the insufferable glare, 
and their comrades led them homewards bv the hand. 



SIEGE AND MASSACRE OF FORT WILLIAM 
HENRY. 

TTAVING failed to take Fort William Henry by sur- 
-^ -*• prise, the French resolved to attack it with all the 
force they could bring against it, and in the summer of 
1757 the Marquis de Montcalm and the Chevalier de 
Levis advanced against it with about eight thousand reg- 
ulars, Canadians, and Indians. The whole assembled at 
Ticonderoga, where several weeks were spent in prepa- 
ration. Provisions, camp equipage, ammunition, cannon, 
and bateaux were dragged by gangs of men up the road 
to the head of the rapids. The work went on through 
heat and rain, by day and night, till, at the end of July, 
all was done. 

The bateaux lay ready by the shore, but could not 
carry the whole force ; and Ldvis received orders to 
march by the side of the lake with twenty-five hundred 
men, Canadians, regulars, and Iroquois. He set out at 
daybreak of the thirtieth of July, his men carrying noth- 
ing but their knapsacks, blankets, and weapons. Guided 
by the unerring Indians, they climbed the steep gorge 
at the side of Rogers Rock, gained the valley beyond, 
and marched southward along a Mohawk trail which 
threaded the forest in a course parallel to the lake. The 
way was of the roughest ; many straggled from the line, 
and two officers completely broke down. The first des- 
tination of the party was the mouth of Ganouskie Bay, 



46 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE ClIAMPLAIN. 

now called Northwest Bay, where they were to wait for 
Montcahn, and kindle three fires as a signal that they 
had reached the rendezvous, 

Montcalm left a detachment to hold Ticonderoga ; 
and then, on the first of August, at two in the afternoon, 
he embarked at the Burned Camp with all his remaining 
force. Including those with Levis, the expedition counted 
about seven thousand six hundred men, of whom more 
than sixteen hundred were Indians. At five in the 
afternoon they reached the place where the Indians, who 
had gone on before the rest, w^erc smoking their pipes 
and waiting for the army. The red warriors embarked, 
and joined the French flotilla ; and now, as evening drew 
near, was seen one of those wild pageantries of war 
which Lake George htis often witnessed. A restless 
multitude of birch canoes, filled with painted savages, 
glided by shores and islands, like troops of swimming 
water-fowl. Two hundred and fifty bateaux came next, 
moved by sail and oar, some bearing the Canadian 
militia, and some the battalions of Old France in trim 
and gay attire : first. La Reine and Languedoc ; then 
tlie colony regulars ; then La Sarre and Guienne ; then 
the Canadian brigade of Courtemanche ; then the can- 
non and mortars, each on a platform sustained by two 
bateaux lashed side by side, and rowed by the militia of 
Saint-Ours; then the battalions of Beam and Royal 
Roussillon ; then the Canadians of Gaspe, with the pro- 
vision-bateaux and tlie field-hospital ; and, lastly, a rear 
guard of regulars closed the line. So, under the flush 
of sunset, they held their course along the romantic 
lake, to play their part in the historic drama that lends 
a stern enchantment to its fascinating scenery. Tliey 
passed the Narrows in mist and darkness ; and when, a 
little before dawn, they rounded the high promontory of 



SIEGE OF FOKT WILLIAM HENRY. 47 

Tongue Mountain, they saw, far on the right, three fiery 
sparks shining through the gloom. These were the 
signal-fires of Levis, to tell them that he had reached 
the appointed spot. 

Levis had arrived the evening before, after his hard 
march through the sultry midsummer forest. His men 
had now rested for a night, and at ten in the morning 
he marched again. Montcalm followed at noon, and 
coasted the western shore, till, towards evening, he found 
Levis waiting for him by the margin of a small bay not 
far from the English fort, though hidden from it by a 
projecting point of land. Canoes and bateaux were 
drawn up on the beach, and the united forces made 
their bivouac together. 

The earthen mounds of Fort William Henry still 
stand by the brink of Lake George; and seated at the 
sunset of an August day under the pines that cover 
them, one gazes on a scene of soft and soothing beauty, 
where dreamy waters reflect the glories of the moun- 
tains and the sky. As it is to-day, so it was then ; all 
breathed repose and peace. The splash of some leaping 
trout, or the dipping wing of a passing swallow, alone 
disturbed the summer calm of that unruffled mirror. 

About ten o'clock at night two boats set out from the 
fort to reconnoitre. They Avere passing a point of land 
on their left, two miles or more down the lake, when 
the men on board descried through the gloom a strange 
object against the Ijank ; and they rowed towards it to 
learn what it might be. It Avas an awning over the ba- 
teau that carried Roubaud and liis brother missionaries. 
As the rash oarsmen drew near, the bleating of a sheep 
in one of the French provision-boats warned them of 
danger ; and turning, they pulled for their lives towards 
the eastern shore. Instantlv more than a thousand 



48 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

Indians threw themselves into their canoes and dashed 
in hot pursuit, making the lake and the mountains ring 
with the din of their war-whoops. The fugitives had 
nearly reached land when their pursuers opened fire. 
They replied ; shot one Indian dead, and wounded 
another ; then snatched their oars again, and gained the 
beach. But the whole savage crew was upon them. 
Several were killed, three were taken, and the rest es- 
caped in the dark woods. The prisoners were brought 
before Montcalm, and gave him valuable information of 
the strength and position of the English. ^ 

The Indian Avho was killed was a noted chief of the 
Nipissings ; and his tribesmen howled in grief for their 
bereavement. They painted his face with vermilion, tied 
feathers in his hair, hung pendants in his ears and nose, 
clad him in a resplendent war-dress, put silver bracelets 
on his arms, hung a gorget on his breast with a flame- 
colored ribbon, and seated him in state on the top of a 
hillock, with his lance in his hand, his gun in the hollow 
of his arm, his tomahawk in his belt, and his kettle by 
his side. Then they all crouched about him in lugubri- 
ous silence. A funeral harangue followed ; and next a 
song and solemn dance to the thumping of the Indian 
drum. In the gray of the morning they buried him as 
he sat, and placed food in the grave for his journey to 
the land of souls. 

As the sun rose above the eastern mountains the 
French camp was all astir. The column of Levis, with 
Indians to lead the way, moved through the forest 
towards the fort, and Montcalm followed with the main 

1 The remains of Fort William Henry are now crowded between a 
hotel and the wharf and station of a railway. A scheme has been set 
on foot to level the whole for otlier railway structures. When I first 
knew the place the ground was in much the same state as in the time of 
Montcalm. 




SIEGE OF 
1757. 



MontcalnxCamp 




^l Sca-le. to t?u:PrafiJ^ 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 49 

body ; then the artillery boats rounded the point that 
had hid them from the sight of the English, saluting 
them as they did so with musketry and cannon ; while 
a host of savages put out upon the lake, ranged their 
canoes abreast in a line from shore to shore, and ad- 
vanced slowly, with measured paddle-strokes and yells 
of defiance. 

The position of the enemy was full in sight before 
them. At the head of the lake, towards the right, stood 
the fort, close to the edge of the water. On its left was 
a marsh ; then the rough piece of ground where Johnson 
had encamped two years before ; then a low, flat, rocky 
hill, crowned with an intrenched camp ; and, lastly, on 
the extreme left, another marsh. Far around the fort 
and up the slopes of the western mountain the forest had 
been cut down and burned, and the ground was cumbered 
with blackened stumps and charred carcasses and limbs 
of fallen trees, strewn in savage disorder one upon 
another. Distant shouts and war-cries, the clatter of 
musketry, white puffs of smoke in the dismal clearing 
and along the scorched edge of the bordering forest, told 
that Levis' Indians were skirmishing with parties of the 
English, who had gone out to save the cattle roaming in 
the neighborhood, and burn some out-buildings that 
would have favored the besiegers. Others were taking 
down the tents that stood on a plateau near the foot of 
the mountain on the right, and moving them to the 
intrenchment on the hill. The garrison sallied from 
the fort to support their comrades, and for a time the 
firing was hot. 

Fort William Henry was an irregular bastioned square, 
formed by embankments of gravel surmounted by a 
rampart of heavy logs, laid in tiers crossed one upon 
another, the interstices filled w^ith earth. The lake pro- 

4 



50 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CPLiMPLAIN. 

tected it on the north, the marsh on the east, and ditches 
with chevaux-de-frke on the south and west. Seventeen 
cannon, great and small, besides several mortars and 
swivels, were mounted upon it ; and a brave Scotch 
veteran, Lieutenant-Colonel M(jnro, of the thirtN'-fifth 
regiment, was in command. 

General Webb lay fourteen miles distant at Fort Ed- 
ward, with twenty-six hundred men, chiefly provincials. 
On the twenty-fifth of July he had made a visit to Fort 
William Henry, examined the place, given some orders, 
and returned on the twenty-ninth. He then wrote to 
the Governor of New York, telling him that the French 
were certainly coming, begging him to send uj) the 
militia, and saying : " I am determined to march to Fort 
William Henry with the whole army under my command 
as soon as I shall hear of the farther approach of the 
enemy." Instead of doing so he waited three days, and 
then sent up a detachment of two hundred regulars 
under Lieutenant-Colonel Young, and eight hundred 
Massachusetts men under Colonel Frye. This raised 
the force at the lake to two thousand and two hundred, 
including sailors and mechanics, and reduced that of 
Webb to sixteen hundred, besides half as many more 
distributed at Albany and the intervening forts. If, 
according to his spirited intention, he should go to the 
rescue of Monro, he must leave some of his troops behind 
him to protect the lower posts from a possible French 
inroad by way of South Bay. Thus his power of aiding 
Monro was slight, so rashly had Loudon, intent on 
Louisbourg, left this frontier open to attack. The defect, 
however, was as much in Webb himself as in his re- 
sources. His conduct in the past year had raised doubts 
of his personal courage ; and this was the moment for 
answering them. Great as was the disparity of numl)ers, 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 51 

the emergency would have justified an attempt to save 
Monro at any risk. That officer sent him a hasty note, 
written at nine o'clock on the morning of the third, 
telling him that the French were in sight on the lake ; 
and, in the next night, three rangers came to Fort 
Edward, bringing another short note, dated at six in the 
evening, announcing that the firing had begun, and clos- 
ing with the words : " I believe you will think it proper 
to send a reinforcement as soon as possible." Now, if 
ever, was the time to move, before the fort was invested 
and access cut off. But Webb lay quiet, sending ex- 
presses to New England for help which could not possibly 
arrive in time. On the next night another note came 
from Monro to say that the French were upon him in 
great numbers, well supplied with artillery, but that the 
garrison were all in good spirits. " I make no doubt," 
wrote the hard-pressed officer, " that you will soon send 
us a reinforcement ; " and again on the same day : " We 
are very certain that a part of the enemy have got be- 
tween you and us upon the high road, and would there- 
fore be glad (if it meets with your approbation) the 
whole army was marched." But Webb gave no sign. 

When the skirmishing around the fort was over. La 
Corne, with a body of Indians, occupied the road that 
led to Fort Edward, and Levis encamped hard by to 
support him, while Montcalm proceeded to examine the 
ground and settle his plan of attack. He made his way 
to the rear of the intrenched camp and reconnoitred it, 
hoping to carry it by assault ; but it had a breastwork 
of stones and logs, and he thought the attempt too haz- 
ardous. The ground where he stood was that where 
Dieskau had been defeated ; and as the fate of his pre- 
decessor was not of flattering augury, he resolved to 
besiege the fort in form. 



b2 LAKE (lEOllGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN". 

He chose iov the' site of his operations the ground 
now covered by the village of Caldwell. A little to the 
north of it was a ravine, be\'ond which he formed his 
main camp, while L^vis occupied a tract of drv ground 
beside the marsh, whence he could easily move to inter- 
cept succors from Fort Edward on the one hand, or repel 
a sortie from Fort William Henry on the other. A brook 
ran down the ravine and entered the lake at a small 
cove protected from the fire of the fort by a point of 
land ; and at this place, still called Artillery Cove, 
Montcalm prepared to debark his cannon and mortars. 

Having made his preparations, he sent Fontbrune, one 
of his aides-de-camp, with a letter to Monro. " I owe it 
to humanity," he wrote, " to summon you to surrender. 
At present I can restrain the savages, and make them 
observe the terms of a capitulation, as I might not have 
power to do under other circumstances ; and an obstinate 
defence on your part could only retard the capture of the 
place a few days, and endanger an unfortunate garrison 
which cannot be relieved, in consequence of the disposi- 
tions I have made. I demand a decisive answer within 
an hour." Monro replied that he and his soldiers would 
defend themselves to the last. While the flags of truce 
were flying, the Indians swarmed over the fields before 
the fort; and when they learned the result, an Abenaki 
chief shouted in broken French : " You won't surrendei-. 
eh ! Fire away then, and fight your best ; for if I catch 
you, you shall get no quarter." Monro emphasized his 
refusal by a general discharge of his cannon. 

The trenches were opened on the night of the fourth, 
— a task of extreme difficulty, as the ground was covered 
by a profusion of half-burned stumps, roots, branches, 
and fallen trunks. Eight hundred men toiled till day- 
light with pick, spade, and axe, while the cannon from 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 53 

the fort flashed through the darkness, and grape and 
round-shot whistled and screamed over their heads. 
Some of the English balls reached the camp beyond the 
ravine, and disturbed the slumbers of the officers off 
duty, as they lay wrapped in their blankets and bear- 
skins. Before daybreak the lirst parallel was made ; a 
battery was nearly finished on the left, and another was 
begun on the right. The men now worked under cover, 
safe in their burrows ; one gang relieved another, and 
the work went on all day. 

The Indians were far from doing what was expected 
of them. Instead of scouting in the direction of Fort 
Edward to learn the movements of the enemy and pre- 
vent surprise, they loitered about the camp and in the 
trenches, or amused themselves by firing at the fort i 
from behind stumps and logs. Some, in imitation of 
the French, dug little trenches for themselves, in which 
they wormed their way towards the rampart, and now 
and then picked off an artillery-man, not without loss on 
their own side. On the afternoon of the fifth, Montcalm 
invited them to a council, gave them belts of wampum, 
and mildly remonstrated with them. " Why expose 
yourselves without necessity ? I grieve bitterly over the 
losses tliat you have met, for the least among you is 
precious to me. No doubt it is a good thing to annoy 
the English ; but that is not the main point. You ought 
to inform me of everything the enemy is doing, and 
always keep parties on the road between the two forts." 
And he gently hinted that their place was not in his 
camp, but in that of Levis, where missionaries were 
provided for such of them as were Christians, and food 
and ammunition for them all. They promised, with 
excellent docility, to do everything he wished, but 
added that there was something on their hearts. Being 



54 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

encouraged to relieve themselves of the burden, they 
complained that they had not been consulted as to the 
management of the siege, but were expected to obey 
orders like slaves. " We know more about fighting in 
the woods than you," said their orator ; " ask our advice, 
and you will be the better for it." 

Montcalm assured them that if they had been neg- 
lected, it was only through the hurry and confusion of 
the time ; expressed high appreciation of their talents 
for bush-fighting, promised them ample satisfaction, and 
ended by telling them that in the morning they should 
hear the big guns. This greatly pleased them, for they 
were extremely impatient for the artillery to begin. 
About sunrise the battery of the left opened with eight 
heavy cannon and a mortar, joined, on the next morn- 
ing, by the battery of the right, with eleven pieces 
more. The fort replied with spirit. The cannon thun- 
dered all day, and from a hundred peaks and crags the 
astonished wilderness roared back the sound. The Ind- 
ians were delighted. They wanted to point the guns ; 
and to humor them, they were now and then allowed 
to do so. Others lay behind logs and fallen trees, and 
yelled their satisfaction when they saw the splinters 
fly from the wooden rampart. 

Day after day the weary roar of the distant cannonade 
fell on the ears of Webb in his camp at Fort Edward. 
" I have not yet received the least reinforcement," he 
writes to Loudon ; "• this is the disagreeable situation we 
are at present in. The fort, by the heavy fii-ing we liear 
from the lake, is still in our possession ; but I fear it 
cannot long hold out against so warm a cannonading 
if I am not reinforced by a sufficient number of militia 
to march to their relief." The militia were coming ; 
but it was impossible that many could reach him in less 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 65 

than a week. Those from New York alone were within 
call, and two thousand of them arrived soon after he 
sent Loudon the above letter. Then, by stripping all 
the forts below, he could bring- together forty-five hun- 
dred men ; while several French deserters assured him 
that Montcalm had nearly twelve thousand. To advance 
to the relief of Monro with a force so inferior, through 
a defile of rocks, forests, and mountains, made by nature 
for ambuscades, — and this too with troops who had 
neither the steadiness of regulars nor the bush-fighting 
skill of Indians, — was an enterprise for firmer nerve 
than his. 

He had already warned Monro to expect no help from 
him. At midnight of the fourth, Captain Bartman, his 
aide-de-camp, wrote : " The General has ordered me to 
acquaint you he does not think it prudent to attempt a 
junction or to assist you till reinforced by the militia 
of the colonies, for the immediate march of which re- 
peated expresses have been sent." The letter then 
declared that the French were in complete possession 
of the road between the two forts, that a prisoner just 
brought in reported their f(n-ce in men and cannon to 
be very great, and that, unless the militia came soon, 
Monro had better make what terms he could with the 
enemy. 

The chance was small that this letter would reach its 
destination; and in fact the bearer was killed by La 
Corne's Indians, who, in stripping the body, found the 
hidden paper, and carried it to the General. Montcalm 
kept it several days, till the English rampart was half 
battered down ; and then, after saluting his enemy with 
a volley from all his cannon, he sent it with a graceful 
compliment U) Monro. It was Bougainville who carried 
it, preceded by a druraracr and a flag. He was met at 



56 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CHAxMPLAIN. 

the foot of the glacis, blindfolded, and led through the 
fort and along the edge of the lake to the intrenched 
camp, where Monro was at the time. " He returned 
many thanks," writes the emissary in his Diary, "for 
the courtesy of our nation, and protested his joy at 
having to do with so generous an enemy. This was 
liis answer to the Marquis de Montcalm. Then they led 
me back, always with eyes blinded; and our batteries 
began to fire again as soon as we thought that the Eng- 
lish grenadiers who escorted me had liad time to re-enter 
the fort. I hope General Webb's letter may induce the 
English to surrender the sooner." 

By this time the sappers had worked their way to the 
angle of the lake, where they were stopped by a marshy 
hollow, beyond which was a tract of high ground, reach- 
ing to the fort and serving as the garden of the garrison.^ 
Logs and fascines in large quantities were thrown into 
the hollow, and hurdles were laid over them to form a 
causeway for the cannon. Then the sap was continued 
up the acclivity beyond, a trench was opened in the 
garden, and a battery begun, not two hundred and fifty 
yards from the fort. The Indians, in great number, 
crawled forward among the beans, maize, and cabbages, 
and lay there ensconced. On the night of the seventh, 
two men came out of the fort, apparently to reconnoitre, 
with a view to a sortie, when they were greeted by a 
general volley and a burst of yells which echoed among 
the mountains ; followed by responsive whoops pealing 
through the darkness from the various camps and lurk- 
ing-places of the savage warriors far and near. 

The position of the besieged was now deplorable. 
More than three hundred of them had been killed and 

^ Now the site of Fort William Henry Hotel, with its grounds. The 
hollow is partly filled by the main road of Caldwell. 



SIEGE OF FOKT WILLIAM HENKY. 57 

wounded ; small-])ox was raging in the fort ; the place 
was a focus of infection, and the casemates were crowded 
with the sick. A sortie from tlie intrenched camp and 
another from the fort had been repulsed with loss. All 
their large cannon and mortars had been burst, or dis- 
abled by shot ; only seven small pieces were left fit for 
service ; and the whole of Montcalm's thirty-one cannon 
and fifteen mortars and howitzers would soon open fire, 
while the walls were already breached, and an assault 
was imminent. Through the night of the eighth they 
fired briskly from all their remaining pieces. In the 
morning the officers held a council, and all agreed to 
surrender if honorable terms could be had. A white 
flag was raised, a drum was beat, and Lieutenant-Colonel 
Young, mounted on horseback, — for a shot in the foot 
had disabled him from walking, — went, followed by a 
few soldiers, to the tent of Montcalm. 

It was agreed that the English troops should march 
out with the honors of war, and be escorted to Fort 
Edward by a detachment of French troops ; that they 
should not serve for eighteen months ; and that all 
French prisoners captured in America since the war 
began should be given up within three months. The 
stores, munitions, and artillery were to be the prize of 
the victors, except one field-piece, which the garrison 
were to retain in recognition of their brave defence. 

Before signing the capitulation Montcalm called the 
Indian chiefs to council, and asked them to consent to 
the conditions, and promise to restrain their young 
warriors from any disorder. They approved everything 
and promised everything. The garrison then evacuated 
the fort, and marched to join their comrades in the 
intrenched camp, which was included in the surren- 
der. No sooner were they gone than a crowd of Indians 



58 LAKE GEOKGE AND LAKE CILOIPLAIN. 

clambered through the embrasures in search of rum 
and plunder. All the sick men unable to leave their 
beds were instantly butchered. " I was witness of this 
spectacle," says the missionary Roubaud ; " I saw one 
of these barbarians come out of the casemates with a 
human head in his hand, from whicli the blood ran in 
streams, and which he paraded as if he had got the 
finest prize in the world." There was little left to 
plunder ; and the Indians, joined by the more lawless of 
the Canadians, turned their attention to the intrenched 
camp, where all the English were now collected. 

The French guard stationed there could not or would 
not keep out the rabble. By the advice of Montcalm 
the English stove their rum-barrels ; but the Indians 
were drunk already with homicidal rage, and the glitter 
of their vicious eyes told of the devil within. They 
roamed among the tents, intrusive, insolent, their vis- 
ages besmirched with war-paint ; grinning like fiends as 
they handled, in anticipation of the knife, the long hair 
of cowering women, of whom, as well as of children, 
there were many in the camp, all crazed with fright. 
Since the last war the New England border population 
had regarded Indians Avith a mixture of detestation and 
horror. Their mysterious Avarfare of ambush and sur- 
prise, their midnight onslaughts, their butcheries, their 
burnings, and all their nameless atrocities, had been for 
years the theme of fireside story ; and the dread they 
excited Avas deepened by the distrust and dejection of 
the time. The confusion in the camp lasted through the 
afternoon. " The Indians," says Bougainville, " Avanted 
to plunder the chests of the English ; the latter resisted ; 
and there Avas fear that serious disorder Avould ensue. 
The Marquis de Montcalm ran thither immediately, 
and used every means to restore tranquillity : prayers, 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 59 

threats, caresses, interposition of tlie officers and inter- 
preters who have some influence over these savages." 
" We shall be but too happy if we can prevent a mas- 
sacre. Detestable position ! of which nobody who has 
not been in it can have any idea, and which makes 
victory itself a sorrow to the victors. The Marquis 
spared no efforts to prevent the rapacity of the savages 
and, I must say it, of certain persons associated with 
them, from resulting iu something worse than plunder. 
At last, at nine o'clock in the evening, order seemed 
restored. The Marquis even induced the Indians to 
promise that, besides the escort agreed upon in the 
capitulation, two chiefs for each tribe should accom- 
pany the English on their way to Fort Edward." He 
also ordered La Corne and the other Canadian officers 
attached to the Indians to see that no violence took 
place. He might well have done more. In view of the 
disorders of the afternoon, it would not have been too 
much if he had ordered the whole body of regular troops, 
whom alone he could trust for the purpose, to hold 
themselves ready to move to the spot in case of out- 
break, and shelter their defeated foes behind a hedge of 
bayonets. 

Bougainville was not to see what ensued ; for Montcalm 
now sent him to Montreal, as a special messenger to 
carry news of the victory. He embarked at ten o'clock. 
Returning daylight found him far down the lake ; and 
as he looked on its still bosom flecked with mists, and 
its quiet mountains sleeping under the flush of dawn, 
there was nothing in the wild tranquillity of the scene 
to suggest the tragedy which even then was beginning 
on the shore he had left behind. 

The Englisli in their camp liad passed a troubled 
night, agitated by strange rumors. In the morning 



60 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CILIMPLAIN. 

something like a panic seized them ; for they distrusted 
not the Indians only, but the Canadians. In their 
haste to be gone they got together at daybreak, be- 
fore the escort of three hundred regulars had arrived. 
They had their muskets, but no ammunition ; and few 
or none of the provincials had bayonets. Early as it 
was, the Indians were on the alert ; and, indeed, since 
midnight great numbers of them had been prowling 
about the skirts of the camp, showing, says Colonel 
Frye, " more than usual malice in their looks." Seven- 
teen wounded men of his regiment lay in huts, unable 
to join the march. In the preceding afternoon Miles 
Whitworth, the regimental surgeon, had passed them 
over to the care of a French surgeon, according to an 
agreement made at the time of the surrender ; but, the 
Frenchman being absent, the other remained with them 
attending to their wants. The French surgeon had 
caused special sentinels to be posted for their protection. 
These were now removed, at the moment when they 
were needed most ; upon which, about live o'clock in the 
morning, the Indians entered the huts, dragged out the 
inmates, and tomahawked and scalped them all, before 
the eyes of Whitworth, and in presence of La Corne 
and other Canadian officers, as well as of a French guard 
stationed within forty feet of the spot ; and, declares the 
surgeon under oath, "■ none, either officer or soldier, pro- 
tected the said wounded men." The opportune butchery 
relieved them of a troublesome burden. 

A scene of plundering now began. The escort had by 
this time arrived, and Monro complained to the officers 
that the capitulation was broken ; but got no other an- 
swer than advice to give up the baggage to the Indians 
in order to appease them. To this the English at length 
agreed ; but it only increased the excitement of the mob. 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 61 

They demanded rum ; and some of the soldiers, afraid to 
refuse, gave it to them from their canteens, thus adding 
fuel to the flame. When, after much difficulty, the col- 
umn at last got out of the camp and began to move along 
the road that crossed the rough plain between the in- 
trenchment and the forest, the Indians crowded upon 
them, impeded their march, snatched caps, coats, and 
weapons from men and officers, tomahawked those that 
resisted, and seizing upon shrieking women and children, 
dragged them off or murdered them on the spot. It is 
said that some of the interpreters secretly fomented the 
disorder. Suddenly there rose the screech of the war- 
whoop. At this signal of butchery, which was given by 
Abenaki Christians from the mission of the Penobscot, a 
mob of savages rushed upon the New Hampshire men at 
the rear of the column, and killed or dragged away eighty 
of them. A frightful tumult ensued, when Montcalm, 
Levis, Bourlamaque, and many other French officers, who 
had hastened from their camp on the first news of dis- 
turbance, threw themselves among the Indians, and by 
promises and threats tried to allay their frenzy. " Kill 
me, but spare the English who are under my protection," 
exclaimed Montcalm. He took from one of them a young 
officer whom the savage had seized ; upon which several 
other Indians immediately tomahawked their prisoners, 
lest they too should be taken from them. One writer 
says that a French grenadier was killed and two wounded 
in attempting to restore order; but the statement is doubt- 
ful. The English seemed paralyzed, and fortunately did 
not attempt a resistance, which, without ammunition as 
they were, would have ended in a general massacre. 
Their broken column struggled forward in wild disorder, 
amid the din of whoops and shrieks, till they reached 
tlie French advance-guard, which consisted of Canadians; 



62 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAlN. 

and here they tlemaiided protection from the officers, 
who refused to give it, telling them that they must 
take to the woods and shift for themselves. Frye was 
seized by a number of Indians, who, brandishing spears 
and tomahawks, threatened him with death and tore off 
his clothing, leaving nothing but breeches, shoes, and 
shirt. Repelled by the officers of the guard, he made 
for the woods. A Connecticut soldier who was present 
says of him that he leaped upon an Indian who stood in 
his way, disarmed and killed him, and then escaped ; 
but Frye himself does not mention the incident. Cap- 
tain Burke, also of the Massachusetts regiment, was 
stripped, after a violent struggle, of all his clothes ; then 
broke loose, gained the woods, spent the night shivering 
in the thick grass of a marsh, and on the next day 
reached Fort Edward. Jonathan Carver, a provincial 
volunteer, declares that, when the tumult was at its 
height, he saw officers of the French army walking about 
at a little distance and talking with seeming unconcern. 
Three or four Indians seized him, brandished their toma- 
hawks over his head, and tore off most of his clothes, 
while he vainly claimed protection from a sentinel, who 
called him an English dog, and violently pushed him 
back among his tormentors. Two of them were drag- 
ging him towards the neighboring swamp, when an 
English officer, stripped of everything but his scarlet 
breeches, ran by. One of Carver's captors sprang upon 
him, but was thrown to the ground ; whereupon the 
other went to the aid of his comrade and drove his 
tomahawk into the back of the Englishman. As Carver 
turned to run, an English boy, about twelve years old, 
clung to him and begged for help. They ran on together 
for a moment, when the boy was seized, dragged from 
his protector, and, as Carver judged by his shrieks, was 



SIEGE OF FORT WILLIAM HENRY. 63 

murdered. He himself escaped to the forest, and after 
three days of famine reached Fort Edward. 

The bonds of discipline seem for the time to have 
been completely broken ; for while Montcalm and his 
chief othcers used every effort to restore order, even at 
the risk of their lives, many other officers, chiefly of the 
militia, failed atrociously to do their duty. How many 
English were killed it is impossible to tell with exact- 
ness. Roubaud says that he saw forty or fifty corpses 
scattered about the field. Levis says fifty ; which does 
not include the sick and wounded before murdered in the 
camp and fort. It is certain that six or seven hundred 
persons were carried off, stripped, and otherwise mal- 
treated. Montcalm succeeded in recovering more than 
four hundred of them in the course of the day; and 
many of the French officers did what they could to re- 
lieve their wants by buying back from their captors the 
clothing that had been torn from them. Many of the 
fugitives had taken refuge in the fort, whither Monro 
himself had gone to demand protection for his followers; 
and here Roubaud presently found a crowd of half- 
frenzied women, crying in anguish for husbands and 
children. All the refugees and redeemed prisoners were 
afterwards conducted to the intrenched camp, where 
food and shelter were provided for them, and a strong 
guard set for their protection until the fifteenth, when 
they were sent under an escort to Fort Edward. Here 
cannon had been fired at intervals to guide those who 
had fled to the woods, whence they came dropping in 
from day to day, half dead with famine. 

On the morning after the massacre the Indians de- 
camped in a body and set out for Montreal, carrying 
with them their plunder and some two liundred pris- 
oners, who, it is said, could not be got out of their hands. 



64 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAM PLAIN. 

The soldiers were set to the work of demolishing the 
English fort ; and the task occupied several days. The 
barracks were torn down, and the huge pine-logs of 
the rampart thrown into a heap. The dead bodies that 
filled the casemates were added to the mass, and fire 
was set to the whole. The mighty funeral pyre blazed 
all night. Then, on the sixteenth, the army reimbarked. 
The din of ten thousand combatants, the rage, the terror, 
the agony, were gone ; and no living thing was left but 
the wolves that gathered from the mountains to feast 
upon the dead. 




MUINTCALM. 
Aged. 29. 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 

IN 1758, the English commanders, incensed at the loss 
of Fort William Henry, resolved to retaliate by a 
strong effort to seize Ticonderoga. In June, the com- 
bined British and provincial force destined for the 
expedition was gathered at the head of Lake George 
nnder General Abercromby, while the Marquis de Mont- 
calm lay around the walls of the French stronghold with 
an army not one fourth so numerous. 

Montcalm hesitated whether he should not fall back 
to Crown Point. It was but a choice of difficulties, and 
he stayed at Ticonderoga. His troops were disposed as 
they had been in the summer before ; one battalion, that 
of Berry, being left near the fort, while the main body, 
under Montcalm himself, was encamped by the saw-mill 
at the Falls, and the rest, under Bourlamaque, occupied 
the head of the portage, with a small advanced force at 
the landing-place on Lake George. It remained to de- 
termine at which of these points he should concentrate 
them and make his stand against the English. Ruin 
threatened him in any case ; each position had its fatal 
weakness or its peculiar danger, and his best hope was 
in the ignorance or blundering of his enemy. He seems 
to have been several days in a state of indecision. 

In the afternoon of the fifth of July the partisan 
Langy, who had gone out to reconnoitre towards the 
head of Lake George, came back in haste with the report 
5 



G6 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

that the English were embarked in great force. Mont- 
calm sent a canoe down Lake Champlain to hasten L^vis 
to his aid, and ordered the battalion of Berry to begin 
a breastwork and abatis on the high ground in front of 
the fort. That they were not begun before shows that 
he was in doubt as to his plan of defence ; and that his 
whole army was not now set to work at them shows that 
his doubt was still unsolved. 

It was nearly a month since Abercromby had begun 
his camp at the head of Lake George. Here, on the 
ground where Johnson had beaten Dieskau, where 
Montcalm had planted his batteries, and Monro vainly 
defended the wooden ramparts of Fort William Henry, 
were now assembled more than fifteen thousand men ; 
and the shores, the foot of the mountains, and the broken 
plains between them were studded thick with tents. Of 
regulars there were six thousand three hundred and 
sixty-seven, officers and soldiers, and of provincials nine 
thousand and thirty-four. To the New England levies, 
or at least to their chaplains, the expedition seemed 
a crusade against the al)omination of Babylon ; and they 
discoursed in their sermons of Moses sending forth 
Joshua against Anialek. Abercromby, raised to his 
place by political influence, was little but the nominal 
commander. " A heavy man," said Wolfe in a letter 
to his father ; " an aged gentleman, infirm in body and 
mind," wrote William Parkman, a boy of seventeen, 
who carried a musket in a Massachusetts regiment, and 
kept in his knapsack a dingy little note-book, in which 
he jotted down what passed each day. Tlie age of the 
aged gentleman was fifty-two. 

Pitt meant that the actual command of the army 
should be in the hands of Brigadier Lord Howe, and he 
was in fact its real chief; "the noblest Englishnum that 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 67 

has appeared in my time, and the best soldier in the 
British army," says Wolfe. And he elsewhere speaks 
of him as " that great man." Abercromby testifies to 
the universal respect and love with which officers and 
men regarded him, and Pitt calls him " a character of 
ancient times ; a complete model of military virtue." 
High as this praise is, it seems to have been deserved. 
The young nobleman, who was then in his thirty-fourth 
year, had the qualities of a leader of men. The army 
felt him, from general to drummer boy. He was its 
soul ; and while breathing into it his own energy and 
ardor, and bracing it by stringent discipline, he broke 
through the traditions of the service and gave it new 
shapes to suit the time and place. During the past year 
he had studied the art of forest warfare, and joined 
Rogers and his rangers in their scouting-parties, sharing 
all their hardships and making himself one of them. 
Perhaps the reforms that he introduced were fruits of 
this rough self-imposed schooling. He made officers 
and men throw off all useless incumbrances, cut their 
hair close, wear leggings to protect them from briers, 
brown the barrels of their muskets, and carry in their 
knapsacks thirty pounds of meal, which they cooked for 
tliemselves ; so that, according to an admiring French- 
man, they could live a month without their supply-trains. 
" You would laugh to see the droll figure we all make," 
writes an officer. " Regulars as well as provincials have 
cut their coats so as scarcely to reach their waists. No 
officer or private is allowed to carry more than one 
blanket and a bearskin. A small portmanteau is allowed 
each officer. No women follow the camp to wash our 
linen. Lord Howe has already shown an example by 
going to the brook and washing his own." 

Hero, as in all things, he shared the lot of the soldier, 



68 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

and required his officers to share it. A story is told of 
him that before the army embarked he invited some of 
them to dinner in his tent, where they found no seats but 
logs, and no carpet but bearskins. A servant presently 
placed on the ground a large dish of pork and peas, on 
which his lordship took from his pocket a sheath con- 
taining a knife and fork and began to cut the meat. 
The guests looked on in some embarrassment ; upon 
which he said: " Is it possible, gentlemen, that you have 
come on this campaign without providing yourselves 
with what is necessary ? " And he gave each of them 
a sheath, with a knife and fork, like his own. 

Yet this Lycurgus of the camp, as a contemporary 
calls him, is described as a man of social accomplish- 
ments rare even in his rank. He made himself greatly 
beloved by the provincial officers, with many of whom 
he was on terms of intimacy, and he did what he could 
to break down the barriers between the colonial soldiers 
and the British regulars. When he was at Albany, 
sharing with other high officers the kindly hospitalities 
of Mrs. Schuyler, he so won the heart of that excellent 
matron that she loved him like a son ; and, though not 
given to such effusion, embraced him with tears on the 
morning when he left her to lead his division to the lake. 
In Westminster Abbey may be seen the tablet on which 
Massachusetts pays grateful tribute to his virtues, and 
commemorates " the affection her officers and soldiers 
bore to his command." 

On the evening of the fourth of July, baggage, stores, 
and ammunition were all on board the boats, and the 
whole army embarked on the morning of the fifth. The 
arrangements were perfect. Each corps marched with- 
out confusion to its appointed station on the beach, and 
the sun was scarcely above the ridge of French Moun- 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 69 

tain when all were afloat. A spectator watching them 
from the shore sajs that when the fleet was three miles 
on its way, the surface of the lake at that distance was 
completely hidden from sight. There were nine hun- 
dred bateaux, a hundred and thirty-five whaleboats, and 
a large number of heavy flat boats carrying the artillery. 
The whole advanced in three divisions, the regulars in 
the centre, and the provincials on the flanks. Each 
corps had its flags and its music. The day was fair, and 
men and officers were in the highest spirits. 

Before ten o'clock they began to enter the Narrows ; 
and the boats of the three divisions extended themselves 
into long files as the mountains closed on either hand 
upon the contracted lake. From front to rear the line 
was six miles long. The spectacle was superb : the 
brightness of the summer day ; the romantic beauty of 
the scenery ; the sheen and sparkle of those crystal 
waters ; the countless islets, tufted with pine, birch, and 
fir ; the bordering mountains, with their green summits 
and sunny crags ; the flash of oars and glitter of weap- 
ons ; the banners, the varied uniforms, and the notes of 
bugle, trumpet, bagpipe, and drum, answered and pro- 
longed by a hundred woodland echoes. " I never beheld 
so delightful a prospect," wrote a wounded officer at 
Albany a fortnight after. 

Rogers with the rangers, and Gage with the light 
infantry, led the way in whaleboats, followed by Brad- 
street with his corps of boatmen, armed and drilled as 
soldiers. Then came the main body. The central 
column of regulars was commanded by Lord Howe, his 
own regiment, the fifty-fifth, in the van, followed by the 
Royal Americans, the twenty-seventh, forty-fourth, forty- 
sixth, and eightieth infantry, and the Highlanders of the 
forty-second, with their major, Duncan Campbell of 



70 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE ClIAMPLAIN. 

Inverawe, silent and gloomy amid the general cheer, for 
his soul was dark with foresliadowings of death. With 
this central column came what are descrihed as two 
floating castles, which were no doubt batteries to cover 
the landing of the troops. On the right hand and the 
left were the provincials, uniformed in blue, regiment 
after regiment, from Massachusetts, Connecticut, New 
York, New Jersey, and Rhode Island. Behind them all 
came the bateaux, loaded with stores and baggage, and 
the heavy flat boats that carried the artillery, while a 
rear-guard of provincials and regulars closed the long 
procession. 

At five in the afternoon they reached Sabbath-Day 
Point, twenty-five miles down the lake, where they 
stopped till late in the evening, waiting for the baggage 
and artillery, which had lagged behind ; and here Lord 
Howe, lying on a bearskin by the side of the ranger, 
John Stark, questioned him as to the position of Ticon- 
deroga and its best points of approach. At about eleven 
o'clock they set out again, and at daybreak entered what 
was then called the Second Narrows ; that is to say, the 
contraction of the lake where it approaches its outlet. 
Close on their left, ruddy in the warm sunrise, rose the 
vast bare face of Rogers Rock, whence a French advanced 
party, under Langy and an officer named Trepezec, was 
watching their movements. Lord Howe, with Rogers and 
Bradstreet, went in whaleboats to reconnoitre the land- 
ing. At the place which the French called the Burned 
Camp, where Montcalm had embarked the summer be- 
fore, they saw a detachment of the enemy too weak to 
oppose them. Their men landed and drove them off. 
At noon the whole army was on shore. Rogers, with 
a party of rangers, was ordered forward to reconnoitre, 
and the troops were formed for the march. 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 71 

From this part of the shore ^ a plain covered with 
forest stretched northwestward lialf a mile or more to 
the mountains behind which lay the valley of Trout 
Brook. On this plain the army began its march in four 
columns, with the intention of passing- round the west- 
ern bank of the river of the outlet, since the bridge over 
it had been destroyed. Rogers, with the provincial 
regiments of Fitch and Lyman, led the way, at some 
distance before the rest. The forest was extremely 
dense and heavy, and so obstructed with undergrowth 
that it was impossible to see more than a few yards in 
any direction, while the ground was encumbered with 
fallen trees in every stage of decay. The ranks were 
broken, and the men struggled on as they could in 
dampness and shade, under a canopy of boughs that the 
sun could scarcely pierce. The difficulty increased 
when, after advancing about a mile, they came upon 
undulating and broken ground. They were now not far 
from the ui)per rai)ids of the outlet. The guides became 
bewildered in the maze of trunks and boughs ; the 
marching columns were confused, and fell in one upon 
the other. Tliey were in the strange situation of an 
army lost in the woods. 

The advanced party of French under Langy and 
Trepezec, about three hundred and fifty in all, regulars 
and Canadians, had tried to retreat; but before they 
could do so, the whole English army had passed them, 
landed, and placed itself between them and their eonntry- 
men. They had no resource but to take to the woods. 
They seem to have climbed the stecj) gorge at the side 
of Rogers Rock and followed the Indian path that led 
to the valley of Trout Ih-ook, thinking to descend it, 
and, by circling along the ouiskiiis of the valley of 

1 Between the old and new stcainboat-landings, and parts adjacent. 



72 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

Ticonderoga, reach Montcalm's camp at the saw-mill. 
Langy was used to bushrangiiig ; but he too became per- 
plexed in the blind intricacies of the forest. Towards the 
close of the day he and his men had come out from the 
valley of Trout Brook, and were near the junction of that 
stream with the river of the outlet, in a state of some 
anxiety, for they could see nothing but brown trunks and 
green boughs. Could any of them have climbed one of 
the great pines that here and there reared their shaggy 
spires high above the surrounding forest, they would 
have discovered where they were, but would have 
gained not the faintest knowledge of the enemy. Out 
of the woods on the right they would have seen a smoke 
rising from the burning huts of the French camp at the 
head of the portage, which Bourlamaque had set on fire 
and abandoned. At a mile or more in front, the saw- 
mill at the Falls might perhaps have been descried, and, 
by glimpses between the trees, the tents of the neighbor- 
ing camp where Montcalm still lay with his main force. 
All the rest seemed lonely as the grave ; mountain and 
valley lay wrapped in primeval woods, and none could 
have dreamed that, not far distant, an army was groping 
its way, buried in foliage ; no rumbling of wagons and 
artillery trains, for none were there ; all silent but the 
cawing of some crow flapping his black wings over the 
sea of tree-tops. 

Lord Howe, with ^lajor Israel Putnam and two hun- 
dred rangers, was at the head of the principal column, 
which was a little in advance of the three others. Sud- 
denly the challenge. Qui vive ! rang sharply from the 
thickets in front. Frangais! was the reply. Langy's 
men were not deceived; they fired out of the bushes. 
The shots were returned ; a hot skirmish followed ; 
and Lord Howe dropped dead, shot through the breast. 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 73 

All was confusion. The dull, vicious reports of mus- 
ketry in thick woods, at first few and scattering, then 
in fierce and rapid volleys, reached the troops behind. 
They could hear, but see nothing. Already harassed 
and perplexed, they became perturbed. For all they 
knew, Montcalm's whole army was upon them. Nothing 
prevented a panic but the steadiness of the rangers, who 
maintained the fight alone till the rest came back to 
their senses. Rogers, with his reconnoitring party, and 
the regiments of Fitch and Lyman, were at no great 
distance in front. They all turned on hearing the mus- 
ketry, and thus the French were caught between two 
fires. They fought with desperation. About fifty of 
them at length escaped ; a hundred and forty-eight 
were captured, and the rest killed or drowned in trying 
to cross the rapids. The loss of the English was small 
in numbers, but immeasurable in the death of Howe. 
" The fall of this noble and brave ofiicer," says Rogers, 
" seemed to produce an almost general languor and con- 
sternation through the whole army." " In Lord Howe," 
writes another contemporary. Major Thomas Mante, 
"the soul of General Abercromby's army seemed to 
expire. From the unhappy moment the General was 
deprived of his advice, neither order nor discipline was 
observed, and a strange kind of infatuation usurped the 
place of resolution." The death of one man was the 
ruin of fifteen thousand. 

The evil news was despatched to Albany, and in two 
or three days the messenger who bore it passed the 
house of Mrs. Schuyler on tlie meadows above the town. 
" In the afternoon," says her biographer, " a man was 
seen coming from the north galloping violently without 
his hat. Pedrom, as he was familiarly called, Colonel 
Schuyler's only surviving brother, was with her, and ran 



74 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

instantly to inquire, well knowing that he rode express. 
The man galloped on, crying out that Lord Howe was 
killed. The mind of our good aunt had been so en- 
grossed by her anxiety and fears for the event impend- 
ing, and so impressed with the merit and magnanimity 
of her favorite hero, that her wonted firmness sank 
under the stroke, and she broke out into bitter lamenta- 
tions. This had such an effect on her friends and do- 
mestics that shrieks and sobs of anguish echoed through 
every part of the house." 

The effect of the loss was seen at once. The army 
was needlessly kept under arms all night in the forest, 
and in the morning was ordered back to the landing 
whence it came. Towards noon, however, Bradstreet 
was sent with a detachment of regulars and provincials 
to take possession of the saw-mill at the Falls, which 
Montcalm had abandoned the evening before. Brad- 
street rebuilt the bridges destroyed by the retiring- 
enemy, and sent word to his commander that the way 
was open ; on which Abercromby again put his army 
in motion, reached the Falls late in the afternoon, and 
occupied the deserted encampment of the French. 

Montcalm with his main force had held this position 
at the Falls through most of the preceding day, doubtful, 
it seems, to the last whether he should not make his 
final stand there. Bourlaraaque was for doing so ; but 
two old officers, Bernes and Montguy, pointed out the 
danger that the English would occupy the neighboring 
heights ; whereupon Montcalm at length resolved to fall 
back. The camp was broken up at five o'clock. Some 
of the troops embarked in bateaux, while others marched 
a mile and a half along the forest road, passed the 
place where the battalion of Berry was still at work on 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 75 

bivouac a little farther on, upon the cleared ground that 
surrounded the fort. 

The peninsula of Ticonderoga consists of a rocky pla- 
teau, with low grounds on each side, bordering Lake 
Champlain on the one hand, and the outlet of Lake 
George on the other. The fort stood near the end of 
the peninsula, which points towards the southeast. 
Thence, as one goes westward, the ground declines a 
little, and then slowly rises, till, about half a mile from 
the fort, it reaches its greatest elevation, and begins 
still more gradually to decline again. Thus a ridge is 
formed across the plateau between the steep declivities 
that sink to the low grounds on right and left. Some 
weeks before, a French officer named Hugues had sug- 
gested the defence of this ridge by means of an abatis. 
Montcalm approved his plan ; and now, at the eleventh 
hour, he resolved to make his stand here. The two 
engineers, Pontleroy and Desandrouin, had already 
traced the outline of the works, and the soldiers of 
the battalion of Berry had made some progress in con- 
structing them. At dawn of the seventh, while Aber- 
cromby, fortunately for his enemy, was drawing his 
troops back to the landing-place, the whole French 
army fell to their task. The regimental colors were 
planted along the line, and the officers, stripped to the 
shirt, took axe in hand and labored with their men. 
The trees that covered the ground were hewn down by 
thousands, the tops lopped off, and the trunks piled one 
upon another to form a massive breastwork. The line 
followed the top of the ridge, along which it zigzagged in 
such a manner that the whole front could be swept by 
flank fires of musketry and grape. Abercromby describes 
the wall of logs as between eight and nine feet high ; in 
which case there must have been a rude bariquette, or 



76 LxiKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

platform to fire from, on the inner side. It was cer- 
tainly so high that nothing could be seen over it but the 
crowns of the soldiers' hats. The upper tier was formed 
of single logs, in which notches were cut to serve as 
loopholes ; and in some places sods and bags of sand 
were piled along the top, with narrow spaces to fire 
through. From the central part of the line the ground 
sloped away like a natural glacis ; while at the sides, 
and especially on the left, it was undulating and broken. 
Over this whole space, to the distance of a musket- 
shot from the works, the forest was cut down, and the 
trees left lying where they fell among the stumps, with 
tops turned outwards, forming one vast abatis, which, as 
a Massachusetts officer says, looked like a forest laid flat 
by a hurricane. But the most formidable obstruction was 
immediately along the front of the breastwork, where the 
ground was covered with heavy boughs, overlapping and 
interlaced, with sharpened points bristling into the face 
of the assailant like the quills of a porcupine. As these 
works were all of wood, no vestige of them remains. 
The earthworks now shown to tourists as the lines of 
Montcalm are of later construction ; and though on the 
same ground, are not on the same plan. 

Here, then, was a position which, if attacked in front 
with musketry alone, might be called impregnable. But 
would Abercromby so attack it ? He had several alter- 
natives. He might attempt the flank and rear of his 
enemy by way of the low grounds on the right and left 
of the plateau, a movement which the precautions of 
Montcalm had made difiicult, but not impossible. Or, 
instead of leaving his artillery idle on the strand of 
Lake George, he might bring it to the front and batter 
the breastwork, which, though impervious to musketry, 
was worthless against heavy cannon. 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 77 

what Burgoyiie did with success a score of years later, 
and plant a battery on the heights of Rattlesnake Hill, 
now called Mount Defiance, which commanded the posi- 
tion of the French, and whence the inside of their breast- 
work could be scoured with round-shot from end to end. 
Or, while tlireatening the French front with a part of 
his army, he could march the rest a short distance 
through the woods on his left to the road which led 
from Ticonderoga to Crown Point, and which would 
soon have brought him to the place called Five-Mile 
Point, where Lake Champlain narrows to the width of 
an easy rifle-shot, and where a battery of field-pieces 
would have cut off all Montcalm's supplies and closed 
his only way of retreat. As the French were pi'ovis- 
ioned for but eight days, their position would thus have 
been desperate. They plainly saw the danger ; and 
Doreil declares that had the movement been made, their 
whole army must have surrendered. Montcalm had 
done what he could ; but the danger of his position was 
inevitable and extreme. His hope lay in Abercromby ; 
and it was a hope well founded. The action of the 
English general answered the utmost wishes of his 
enemy. 

Abercromby had been told by his prisoners that 
Montcalm had six thousand men, and that three thou- 
sand more were expected every hour. Therefore he 
was in haste to attack before these succors could arrive. 
As was the general, so was the army. " I believe," 
writes an officer, " avc were one and all infatuated by a 
notion of carrying every obstacle by a mere coup de 
mousqueterie.'' Leadership perished with Lord Howe, 
and nothing, was left but blind, headlong valor. 

Clerk, chief engineer, was sent to reconnoitre the 
French works from Mount Defiance ; and came back 



78 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CUAMPLAIN. 

with the report that, to judge from what he could see, 
they might be carried by assault. Then, without wait- 
ing to bring up his cannon, Abercromby prepared to 
storm the lines. 

The French finished their breastwork and abatis on 
the evening of the seventh, encamped behind them, 
slung their kettles, and rested after their heavy toil. 
L6\is had not yet appeared ; but at twilight one of his 
officers, Captain Pouchot, arrived with three hundred 
regulars, and announced that his commander would 
come before morning with a hundred more. The rein- 
forcement, though small, was welcome, and L^vis was 
a host in himself. Pouchot was told that the army was 
half a mile off. Thither he rei)aired, made his report 
to Montcalm, and looked with amazement at the pro- 
digious amount of work accomplished in one day. 
L^vis himself arrived in the course of the night, and 
approved the arrangement of the troops. They lay 
behind their lines till daybreak ; then the drums beat, 
and they formed in order of battle. The battalions of 
La Sarrc and Languedoc were posted on the left, under 
Bourlamaque, the first battalion of Berry with that of 
Royal Roussillon in the centre, under Montcalm, and 
those of La Reine, B^arn, and Guicnnc on the right, 
under Ldvis. A detachment of volunteers occupied the 
low grounds between the breastwork and the outlet of 
Lake George ; while, at the foot of the declivity on the 
side towards Lake Champlain, Avere stationed four hun- 
dred and fifty colony regulars and Canadians, behind an 
abatis which they had made for themselves ; and as 
they were covered by the cannon of the fort, there was 
some hope that they would check any flank movement 
which the P]nglish might attempt on that side. Tlioir 
posts being thus assigned, the men i'ell lo work again to 



BATTLE OF TICONDEKOGA. 79 

strengthen their defences. Jnchiding those who came 
with Levis, tlic total force of effective soldiers was now 
thirty-six hundred. 

Soon after nine o'clock a distant and harmless fire of 
small-arms began on the slopes of Mount Defiance. It 
came from a party of Indians who had just arrived with 
Sir William Johnson, and who, after amusing themselves 
in tliis manner for a time, remained for the rest of the 
day safe spectatoi's of tlie fight. The soldiers worked 
undisturbed till noon, when volleys of musketry were 
beard from the forest in front. It was the English light 
troops driving in the French pickets. A cannon was 
fii-ed as a signal to drop tools and form for battle. The 
white uniforms lined the breastwork in a triple row, 
with the grenadiers behind them as a reserve, and the 
second battalion of Berry watching the Hanks and rear. 

Meanwhile the English army had moved forward from 
its cam]) by the saw-mill. First came the rangers, the 
light infantry, and l^radstreet's armed boatmen, who, 
emerging into the open space, began a spattering fire. 
Some of the i)rovincial troops followed, extending from 
left to right, and opening fire in turn; then the regulars, 
who had formed in columns of attack under cover of the 
forest, advanced their solid red masses into the sunlight, 
and passing tlii'ough the intervals between the i)rovincial 
regiments, pushed forward to the assault. Across the 
rough ground, with its maze of fallen trees whose leaves 
hung withering in the July sun, they could see the top 
of the breastwork, but not the men behind it ; when, in 
an instant, all the line was obscured by a gush of smoke, 
a crash of exploding firearms tore the air, and grapeshot 
and musket-balls swept the whole space like a tempest ; 
" a damnable fire," says an officer who heard them scream- 
ing about his ears. Tlie English had been ordered to 



80 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE ClIAMPLAIN. 

carry the works with the bayonet ; but their ranks were 
broken by the obstructions through which they struggled 
in vain to force their way, and they soon began to fire in 
turn. The storm raged in full fury for an hour. The 
assailants pushed close to the breastwork ; but there they 
were stopped by the bristling mass of sharpened branches, 
which they could not pass under the murderous cross- 
fires that swept them from front and flank. At length 
they fell back, exclaiming that the works were impreg- 
nable. Abercromby, who was at the saw-mill, a mile 
and a half in the rear, sent orders to attack again, and 
again they came on as before. 

The scene was frightful : masses of infuriated men 
who could not go forward and would not go back ; 
straining for an enemy they could not reach, and firing 
on an enemy they could not see ; caught in the entangle- 
ment of fallen trees ; tripped by briers, stumbling over 
logs, tearing through boughs ; shouting, yelling, cursing, 
and pelted all the while with bullets that killed them 
by scores, stretclied them on the ground, or hung them 
on jagged branches in strange attitudes of death. The 
provincials supported the regulars with spirit, and some 
of them forced their way to the foot of the wooden wall. 

The French fought with the intrepid gayety of their 
nation, and shouts of Vive le Roi ! and Vive notre Crc- 
neral ! mingled with the din of musketry. Montcalm, 
with his coat off, for the day was hot, directed the de- 
fence of the centre, and repaired to any part of the line 
where the danger for the time seemed greatest. He is 
warm in praise of his enemy, and declares that between 
one and seven o'clock they attacked him six successive 
times. Early in the action Abercromby tried to turn 
the French left by sending twenty bateaux, filled with 
troops, down the outlet of Lake George. They were 



BATTLE OF TICONDEKOGA. 81 

met by the fire of the volunteers stationed to defend the 
low grounds on that side, and, still advancing, came 
within range of the cannon of the fort, which sank two 
of them and drove back the rest. 

A curious incident happened during one of the attacks. 
De Bassignac, a captain in the battalion of Royal Rous- 
sillon, tied his handkerchief to the end of a musket and 
waved it over the breastwork in defiance. The English 
mistook it for a sign of surrender, and came forward 
with all possible speed, holding their muskets crossed 
over their heads in both hands, and crying Quarter. 
The French made the same mistake ; and thinking that 
their enemies were giving themselves up as prisoners, 
ceased firing, and mounted on the top of the breastwork 
to receive them. Captain Pouchot, astonished, as he says, 
to see them perched there, looked out to learn the cause, 
and saw that the enemy meant anything but surrender. 
Whereupon he shouted with all his might : " Tirez ! 
Tirez! Ne voyez-vous pas que ces gens-ld vont vous en- 
lever f^^ The soldiers, still standing on the breastwork, 
instantly gave the English a volley, which killed some of 
them, and sent back the rest discomfited. 

This was set to the account of Gallic treachery. " An- 
other deceit the enemy put upon us," says a military 
letter-writer : " they raised their hats above the breast- 
work, which our people fired at ; they having loopholes 
to fire through, and being covered by the sods, we did 
them little damage, except shooting their hats to pieces." 
In one of the last assaults a soldier of the Rhode Island 
regiment, William Smith, managed to get through all 
obstructions and ensconce himself close under the breast- 
work, where in the confusion he remained for a time 
unnoticed, improving his advantages meanwhile by shoot- 
ing several Frenchmen. Being at length observed, a 



82 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

soldier fired vertically down upon him and wounded him 
severely, but not enough to prevent his springing up, 
striking at one of his enemies over the top of the wall, 
and braining him with his hatchet. A British oflticer 
who saw the feat, and was struck by the reckless daring 
of the man, ordered two regulars to bring him off ; 
which, covered by a brisk fire of musketry, they suc- 
ceeded in doing, A letter from the camp two or three 
weeks later reports him as in a fair way to recover, 
being, says the writer, much braced and invigorated by 
his anger against the French, on whom he was swearing 
to have his revenge. 

Toward five o'clock two English columns joined in a 
most determined assault on the extreme right of the 
French, defended by the battalions of Guienne and 
B^arn. The danger for a time was imminent. Mont- 
calm hastened to the spot with the reserves. The 
assailants hewed their way to the foot of the breastwork ; 
and though again and again repulsed, they again and 
again renewed the attack. The Highlanders fought with 
stubborn and unconquerable fury. " Even those who 
were mortally wounded," writes one of their lieutenants, 
" cried to their companions not to lose a thought upon 
them, but to follow their officers and mind the honor of 
their country. Their ardor was such that it was diffi- 
cult to bring them off." Their major, Campbell of 
Inverawe, found his foreboding true. He received a 
mortal shot, and liis clansmen bore him from the field. 
Twenty-five of their officers were killed or wounded, and 
half the men fell under the deadly fire that poured from 
the loopholes. Captain John Campbell and a few fol- 
lowers tore their way through the abatis, climbed the 
breastwork, leaped down among the French, and were 
bayoneted there. 



BATTLE OF TICONDEROGA. 83 

As the colony troops and Canadians on the low ground 
were left undisturbed, Levis sent them an order to make 
a sortie and attack the left flank of the charging col- 
umns. They accordingly posted tliemselves among the 
trees along the declivity, and fired upwards at the en- 
emy, who presently shifted their position to the right, 
out of the line of shot. The assault still continued, but 
in vain ; and at six there was another effort, equally 
fruitless. From this time till half-past seven a linger- 
ing fight was kept up by the rangers and other provin- 
cials, firing from the edge of the woods and from behind 
the stumps, bushes, and fallen trees in front of the lines. 
Its only objects were to cover their comrades, who were 
collecting and bringing off the wounded, and to protect 
the retreat of the regulars, who fell back in disorder to 
the Falls. As twilight came on, the last combatant with- 
drew, and none were left but the dead. Abercromby had 
lost in killed, wounded, and missing, nineteen hundred 
and forty-four officers and men. The loss of the French, 
not counting that of Langy's detachment, was three hun- 
dred and seventy-seven. Bourlamaque was dangerously 
wounded ; Bougainville slightly ; and the hat of L^vis 
was twice shot through. 

Montcalm, with a mighty load lifted from his soul, 
passed along the lines, and gave the tired soldiers the 
thanks they nobly deserved. Beer, wine, and food were 
served out to them, and they bivouacked for the night 
on the level ground between the breastwork and the 
fort. The enemy had met a terrible rebuff ; yet the 
danger was not over. Abercromby still had more than 
thirteen thousand men, and he might renew the attack 
with cannon. But, on the morning of the ninth, a band 
of volunteers who had gone out to watch him brought 



84 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CHAMPLAIN. 

back the report that he was in full retreat. The saw- 
mill at the Falls was on fire, and the last English sol- 
dier was gone. On the morning of the tenth, Levis, 
with a strong detachment, followed the road to the 
landing-place, and found signs that a panic had over- 
taken the defeated troops. They had left behind several 
hundred barrels of provisions and a large quantity of 
baggage ; while in a marshy place that they had crossed 
was found a considerable number of their shoes, which 
had stuck in the mud, and which they had not stopped 
to recover. They had embarked on the morning after 
the battle, and retreated to the head of the lake in a 
disorder and dejection wofully contrasted with the pomp 
of their advance. A gallant army was sacrificed by the 
blunders of its chief. 

Montcalm announced his victory to his w^ife in a strain 
of exaggeration that mai'ks the exaltation of his mind. 
" Without Indians, almost without Canadians or colony 
troops, — I had only four hundred, — alone with L^vis 
and Bourlamaque and the troops of the line, thirty-one 
hundred fighting men, I have beaten an army of twenty- 
five thousand. They repassed the lake precipitately, 
with a loss of at least five thousand. This glorious day 
does infinite honor to the valor of our battalions. I have 
no time to write more. I am well, my dearest, and I 
embrace you." And he wrote to his friend Doreil: 
" The army, the too-small army of the King, has beaten 
the enemy. What a day for France ! If I had had two 
hundred Indians to send out at the head of a thousand 
picked men under the Chevalier de Levis, not many 
would have escaped. Ah, my dear Doreil, what soldiers 
are ours ! I never saw the like. Why were they not 
at Louisbourji; ? " 



BATTLE OF TICONDEKOGA. 85 

On the morrow of his victory he caused a great cross 
to be planted on the battle-field, inscribed with these 
lines, composed by the soldier-scholar himself, — 

" Quid dux ? quid miles ? quid strata ingentia ligna 1 

" En Signum ! en victor ! Deus hie, Deus ipse triuraphat." 

" Soldier and chief and rampart's strength are nought ; 
Behold the conquering Cross ! 'T is God the triumph wrought." 



A LEGEND OF TICONDEROGA. 

MENTION has been made of the death of Major 
Duncan Campbell of Inverawe. The following 
family tradition relating to it was told me in 1878 by 
the late Dean Stanley, to whom I am also indeUted for 
various papers on the subject, including a letter from 
James Campbell, Esq., the present laird of Inverawe, 
and great-nephew of the hero of the tale. The same 
story is told, in an amplified form and with some vari- 
ations, in the Legendary Tales of the Highlands of Sir 
Thomas Dick Lauder. As related by Dean Stanley and 
approved by Mr. Campbell, it is this : — 

The ancient castle of Inverawe stands by the banks 
of the Awe, in the midst of the wild and picturesque 
scenery of the western Highlands. Late one evening, 
before the middle of the last century, as the laird, Dun- 
can Campbell, sat alone in the old hall, there was a loud 
knocking at the gate ; and, opening it, he saw a stranger, 
with torn clothing and kilt besmeared with blood, who 
in a breathless voice begged for asylum. He went on to 
say that he had killed a man in a fray, and that the 
pursuers were at his heels. Campbell promised to shel- 
ter him. " Swear on your dirk ! " said the stranger ; and 
Campbell swore. He then led him to a secret recess in 
the depths of the castle. Scarcely was he hidden when 
again there was a loud knocking at the gate, and two 



A LEGEND OF TICONDEROGA. 87 

armed men appeared. " Your cousin Donald has been 
murdered, and we are looking for the murderer ! " 
Campbell, remembering his oath, professed to have no 
knowledge of the fugitive ; and the men went on their 
way. The laird, in great agitation, lay down to rest in a 
large dark room, where at length he fell asleep. Wak- 
ing suddenly in bewilderment and terror, he saw the 
ghost of the murdered Donald standing by his bedside, 
and heard a hollow voice pronounce the words : " Inver- 
atve I Inverawe ! blood has hee7i shed. Shield not the 
murderer ! " In the morning Campbell went to the 
hiding-place of the guilty man and told him that he 
could hai-bor him no longer. " You have sworn on your 
dirk ! " he replied ; and the laird of Tnverawe, greatly 
perplexed and troubled, made a compromise between 
conflicting duties, promised not to Ijetray his guest, led 
him to the neighboring mountain, and liid liim in a cave. 

In the next night, as he lay tossing in feverish slum- 
bers, the same stern voice awoke him, the ghost of his 
cousin Donald stood again at his bedside, and again he 
heard the same appalling words: '■'■Inverawe! Inverawe! 
blood has been shed. /Shield not the murderer ! " At 
break of day he hastened, in strange agitation, to the 
cave ; but it was empty, the stranger was gone. At 
night, as he strove in vain to sleep, the vision appeared 
once more, ghastly pale, but less stern of aspect than 
before. " Fareivell, Inverawe ! " it said ; " Farewell., till 
we meet at TICONDEROaA!'' 

The strange name dwelt in Campbell's memory. He 
had joined the Black Watch, or Forty-second Regiment, 
then employed in keeping order in the turbulent High- 
lands. In time he became its major ; and, a year or 
two after the war broke out, he went with it to America. 
Here, to his horror, he learned that it was ordered to 



88 LAKE GEORGE AND LAKE CIIAMPLAIN. 

the attack of Ticonderoga. His story was well known 
among his brother officers. They combined among them- 
selves to disarm his fears ; and when they reached the 
fatal spot they told him on the eve of the battle, " This 
is not Ticonderoga ; we are not there yet ; this is Fort 
George." But in the morning he came to them with 
haggard looks. " I have seen him ! You have deceived 
me ! He came to my tent last night ! This is Ticon- 
deroga ! I shall die to-day ! " and his prediction was 
fulfilled. 

Such is the tradition. The indisputable facts are that 
Major Duncan Campbell of Inverawe, his arm shattered 
by a bullet, was carried to Fort Edward, where, after 
amputation, he died and was buried. {Ahercromby to 
Pitt, 19 August, 1758.) The stone that marks his grave 
may still be seen, with this inscription : " ITere lyes the 
Body of Duncan Campbell of Inverawe, Esq""^., Major to 
the old Highland Regiment, aged 55 Years, ivho died the 
IV^ July, 1758, of the Wounds he received in the Attack 
of the Retrenchment of Ticonderoga or Carrillon, on the 
S'^ July, 1758." 

His son. Lieutenant Alexander Campbell, was severely 
wounded at the same time, but reached Scotland alive, 
and died in Glasgow. 

Ur. Campbell, the present Inverawe, in the letter men- 
tioned above, says that forty-five years ago he knew an 
old man whose grandfather was foster-brother to the 
slain major of the forty-second, and who told him the 
following story while carrying a salmon for him to an 
inn near Inverawe. The old man's grandfather was 
sleeping with his son, then a lad, in the same room, but 
in another bed. This son, father of the narrator, " was 



A LEGEND OF TICONDEROGA. 89 

awakened," to borrow the words of Mr. Campbell, " by 
some unaccustomed sound, and behold there was a bright 
light in the room, and he saw a figure, in full Highland 
regimentals, cross over the room and stoop down over 
his father's bed and give him a kiss. He was too fright- 
ened to speak, but put his head under his coverlet and 
went to sleep. Once more he was roused in like manner, 
and saw the same sight. In the morning he spoke to 
his father about it, who told him that it was Macdon- 
nochie {the Gaelic patronymic of the laird of Inverawe'] 
whom he had seen, and who came to tell him that he 
had been killed in a great battle in America. Sure 
enough, said my informant, it was on the very day that 
the battle of Ticonderoga was fought and the laird was 
killed." 

It is also said that two ladies of the family of Inver- 
awe saw a battle in the clouds, in which the shadowy 
forms of Highland warriors were plainly to be descried ; 
and that when the fatal news came from America, it was 
found that the time of the vision answered exactly to 
that of the battle in which the head of the family fell. 



NIAGARA. 



SIEGE OF FORT NIAGARA. 

'T^HE River Niagara was known to the Jesuits as 
-*- early as 1640. The Falls are indicated on Cham- 
plain's map of 1632, and in 1648 the Jesuit Rugneneau 
speaks of them as a " cataract of frightful height." 

In 1678, the Falls were visited by the friar Louis 
Hennepin, who gives an exaggerated description of them, 
and illustrates it by a curious picture. The name Niag- 
ara is of Iroquois origin, and in the Mohawk dialect is 
pronounced Nyagarah. 

In the year of Hennepin's visit, the followers of Cave- 
lier de la Salle began a fortified storehouse where Lewis- 
ton now stands, and on Cayuga Creek, a few miles 
above the Falls, La Salle built the " Griffin," the first 
vessel that ever sailed on the Upper Lakes. At the 
same time he began a fort at the mouth of the river. 
La Salle's fort fell to ruin, and another was built in 
its place a few years after. This, too, was abandoned 
to be again rebuilt, and the post remained in French 
hands more than half a century. It was of the greatest 
importance, since it commanded the chief route from 
Canada to the interior of the continent. At length, in 
1759, the year of Wolfe's famous victory at Quebec, 
General Prideaux was sent to reduce it. 

Prideaux safely reached Niagara, and laid siege to it. 
Fort Niagara was a strong work, lately rebuilt in 
regular form by an excellent officer. Captain Pouchot, 



94 NIAGARA. 

of the battalion of Beam, who commanded it. It stood 
where the present fort stands, in the angle formed by 
the junction of the River Niagara with Lake Ontario, 
and was held by about six hundred men, well supplied 
with provisions and munitions of war. Higher up the 
river, a mile and a half above the cataract, there was 
another fort, called Little Niagara, built of wood, and 
commanded by the half-breed officer, Joncairc-Chabert, 
who with his brother, Joncaire-Clauzonne, and a numer- 
ous clan of Indian relatives, had long tlnvarted the 
efforts of Sir William Johnson to engage the Five 
Nations in the English cause. But recent English 
successes had had their effect. Joncaire's influence 
was waning, and Johnson was now in Prideaux's camp 
with nine hundred Five Nation warriors pledged to fight 
the French. Joncaire, finding his fort untenable, burned 
it, and came with his garrison and his Indian friends to 
reinforce Niagara. 

Pouchot had another resource, on which he con- 
fidently relied. In obedience to an order from Vau- 
dreuil, the French population of the Illinois, Detroit, 
and other distant posts, joined with troops of Western 
Indians, had come down the Lakes to restore French 
ascendency on the Ohio. These mixed bands of white 
men and red, bushrangers and savages, were now gath- 
ered, partly at Le Bceui and Venango, but chiefly at 
Presquisle, under command of Aubry, Ligneris, Marin, 
and other partisan chiefs, the best in Canada. No 
sooner did Pouchot learn that the English were coming 
to attack him than he sent a messenger to summon 
them all to his aid. 

The siege was begun in form, though tlie English 
engineers were so incompetent that the trenches, as 
first laid out, were scoured by the fire of the place, and 



SIEGE OF FORT NIAGARA. 95 

had to be made anew. At last the batteries opened fire. 
A shell from a coehorn burst prematurely, just as it 
left the mouth of the piece, and a fragment striking 
Prideaux on the head, killed him instantly. Johnson 
took command in his place, and made up in energy what 
he lacked in skill. In two or three weeks the fort was 
in extremity. The rampart was breached, more than 
a hundred of the gari'ison were killed or disabled, and 
the rest were exhausted with want of sleep. Pouchot 
watched anxiously for the promised succors ; and on the 
morning of the twenty-fourth of July a distant firing 
told him that they were at hand. 

Aubry and Ligneris, with their motley following, had 
left Presquisle a few days before, to the number, accord- 
ing to Vaudreuil, of eleven hundred French and two 
hundred Indians. Among them was a body of colony 
troops ; but the Frenchmen of the party were chiefly 
traders and bushrangers from the West, connecting 
links between civilization and savagery ; some of them 
indeed were mere white Indians, imbued with the ideas 
and morals of the wigwam, wearing hunting-shirts of 
smoked deer-skin embroidered with quills of the Canada 
porcupine, painting their faces black and red, tying 
eagle feathers in their long hair, or plastering it on their 
temples with a compound of vermilion and glue. They 
were excellent woodsmen, skilful hunters, and perhaps 
the best bushfighters in all Canada. 

When Pouchot heard the firing, he went with a 
wounded artillery officer to the bastion next the river ; 
and as the forest had been cut away for a great distance, 
they could see more than a mile and a half along the 
shore. There, by glimpses among trees and bushes, 
they descried bodies of men, now advancing, and now 
retreating ; Indians in rapid movement, and the smoke 



96 NIAGARA. 

of guns, the sound of which reached their ears in heavy 
volleys, or a sharp and angry rattle. Meanwhile the 
English cannon had ceased their fire, and the silent 
trenches seemed deserted, as if their occupants were 
gone to meet the advancing foe. There was a call in 
the fort for volunteers to sally and destroy the works ; 
but no sooner did they show themselves along the 
covered way than the seemingly abandoned trenches 
were thronged with men and bayonets, and the attempt 
was given up. The distant firing lasted half an hour, 
then ceased, and Pouchot remained in suspense ; till, at 
two in the afternoon, a friendly Onondaga, who had 
passed unnoticed through the English lines, came to 
him with the announcement that the French and their 
allies had been routed and cut to pieces. Pouchot would 
not believe him. 

Nevertheless his tale was true. ' Johnson, besides his 
Indians, had with him about twenty-three hundred men, 
whom he was forced to divide into three separate bodies, 
— one to guard the bateaux, one to guard the trenches, 
and one to fight Aubry and his band. This last body 
consisted of the provincial light infantry and the pickets, 
two companies of grenadiers, and a hundred and fifty 
men of the forty-sixth regiment, all under command of 
Colonel Massey. They took post behind an abatis at a 
place called La Belle Famille, and the Five Nation war- 
riors placed themselves on their flanks. These savages 
had shown signs of disaffection ; and when the enemy 
approached, they opened a parley with the French 
Indians, which, however, soon ended, and both sides 
raised the war-whoop. The fight was brisk for a while ; 
but at last Aubry's men broke away in a panic. The 
French officers seem to have made desperate efforts to 
retrieve the day, for nearly all of thera were killed or 



SIEGE OF FORT NIAGARA. 97 

captured ; while their followers, after heavy loss, fled 
to their canoes and boats above the cataract, hastened 
back to Lake Erie, burned Presquisle, Le Boeuf, and 
Venango, and, joined by the garrisons of those forts, 
retreated to Detroit, leaving the whole region of the 
upper Ohio in undisputed possession of the English. 

At four o'clock on the day of the battle, after a fu- 
rious cannonade on both sides, a trumpet sounded from 
the trenches, and an officer ai)proached the fort with a 
summons to surrender. He hrought also a paper con- 
taining the names of the captive French officers, though 
some of them were spelled in a way that defied recog- 
nition. Pouchot, feigning incredulity, sent an officer 
of his own to the English camp, who soon saw unan- 
swerable proof of the disaster ; for here, under a shelter 
of leaves and boughs near the tent of Johnson, sat Li- 
gneris, severely wounded, with Aubry, Villiers, Montigny, 
Marin, and their companions in misfortune, — in all, 
sixteen officers, four cadets, and a surgeon. 

Pouchot had now no choice but surrender. By the 
terms of the capitulation, the garrison were to be sent 
prisoners to New York, thougli honors of war were 
granted them in acknowledgment of their courageous 
conduct. There was a special stipulation that they 
should be protected from the Indians, of whom they 
stood in the greatest terror, lest the massacre of Fort 
William Henry should be avenged upon them. Johnson 
restrained his dangerous allies, and, though the fort was 
pillaged, no blood was shed. 

The capture of Niagara was an important stroke. 
Thenceforth Detroit, Michillimackinac, the Illinois, and 
all the other French interior posts were severed from 
Canada and left in helpless isolation. The conquest of 
the whole interior became only a question of time. 
7 



MASSACRE OF THE DEVIL'S HOLE. 

A FTER tlic conquest of Canada, there was a general 
-^^^- uprising of the Indian tribes, led by the famous 
Pontiac, against the British forts and settlements. In 
the war that followed, a remarkable incident took place 
a little way below Niagara Falls. 

The carrying-place of Niagara formed an essential link 
in the chain of communication between the province of 
New York and the interior country. Men and military 
stores were conveyed in boats up the river, as far as the 
present site of Lewiston. Thence a portage road, several 
miles in length, passed along the banks of the stream, 
and terminated at Fort Schlosser, above the cataract. 
This road traversed a region whose sublime features 
have gained for it a world-wide renown. The River 
Niagara, a short distance below the cataract, assumes an 
aspect scarcely less remarkable than that stupendous 
scene itself. Its channel is formed by a vast ravine, 
whose sides, now bare and weather-stained, now shaggy 
with forest-trees, rise in cliffs of appalling height and 
steepness. Along this chasm pour all the waters of 
tlie lakes, heaving their furious surges with the power 
of an ocean and the rage of a mountain torrent. About 
three miles below the cataract, the precipices which form 
the eastern wall of the ravine are broken by an abyss of 
awful depth and lilackncss, Ijearing at the present day 
the name of the Devil's Hole. In its shallowest part, the 



MASSACRE OF THE DEVIL'S HOLE. 99 

precipice sinks sheer down to the depth of eighty feet, 
where it meets a chaotic mass of rocks, descending with 
an abrupt declivity to unseen depths below. Within the 
cold and damp recesses of the gulf, a host of forest-trees 
have rooted themselves ; and, standing on the perilous 
brink, one may look down upon the mingled foliage of 
asli, poplar, and maple, while, above them all, the spruce 
and fir slioot their sharp and rigid spires upward into 
sunlight. The roar of the cojivulsed river swells heav- 
ily on the ear, and, far below, its headlong waters may 
be discerned careering in foam past the openings of the 
matted foliage. 

On the thirteenth of September, 1763, a numerous 
train of wagons and pack horses proceeded from the 
lower landing to Fort Schlosser, and on the following 
morning set out on their return, guarded by an escort 
of twenty-four soldiers. They pursued their slow prog- 
ress until they reached a point where the road passed 
along the brink of the Devil's Hole. The gulf yawned 
on their left, while on their right the road was skirted 
by low and densely wooded hills. Suddenly they were 
greeted by the blaze and clatter of a hundred rifles. 
Then followed the startled cries of men, and the bound- 
ing of maddened horses. At the next instant, a host of 
Indians broke screeching from the woods, and rifle-but 
and tomahawk finished the bloody work. All was over 
in a moment. Horses leaped the precipice ; men w^ere 
driven shrieking into the abyss ; teams and wagons went 
over, crashing to atoms among the rocks below\ Tra- 
dition relates that the drummer boy of the detaclmient 
was caught, in his fall, among the branches of a tree, 
where he hung suspended by his drum-strap. Being 
but slightly injured, he disengaged himself, and, hiding 
in the recesses of the gulf, finally escaped. One of the 

L.ofO. 



100 NIAGARA. 

teamsters also, who was wounded at the first fire, con- 
trived to crawl into the woods, where he lay concealed 
till the Indians had left the place. Besides these two, 
the only survivor was Stedman, the conductor of the 
convoy, wlio, being well mounted, and seeing the whole 
party forced helplessly towards the precipice, wheeled 
his horse, and resolutely spurred through the crowd of 
Indians. One of them, it is said, seized his bridle ; but 
he freed himself by a dexterous use of his knife, and 
plunged into the woods, untouched by the bullets which 
whistled about his head. Flying at full speed through 
the forest, he reached Fort Schlosser in safety. 

The distant sound of the Indian rifles had been heard 
by a party of soldiers, who occui)ied a small fortified 
camp near the lower landing. Forming in haste, they 
advanced eagerly to the rescue. In anticipation of this 
movement, the Indians, who were nearly five hundred in 
number, had separated into two parties, one of which 
had stationed itself at the Devil's Hole, to waylay the 
convoy, while the other formed an ambuscade upon the 
road a mile nearer the landing-place. The soldiers, 
marching precipitately, and huddled in a close body, 
were suddenly assailed by a volley of rifles, which 
stretched half their number dead upon the road. Then, 
rushing from the forest, the Indians cut down the sur- 
vivors with merciless ferocity. A small remnant only 
escaped the massacre, and fled to Fort Niagara with the 
tidings. Major Wilkins, who commanded at this post, 
lost no time in marching to the spot, with nearly the 
whole strength of his garrison. Not an Indian was to 
be found. At the two places of ambuscade, about 
seventy dead bodies were counted, naked, scalpless, and 
so horribly mangled that many of them could not be 
recognized. All the wagons had been broken to pieces. 



MASSACRE OF THE DEVIL'S HOLE. 101 

and such of the horses as were not driven over the 
precipice had been carried off, laden, doubtless, with 
the plunder. The ambuscade of the Devil's Hole has 
gained a traditionary immortality, adding fearful inter- 
est to a scene whose native horrors need no aid from 
the imao'ination. 



MONTREAL. 



THE BIRTH OF MONTREAL. 

WE come now to an enterprise as singular in its 
character as it proved important in its results. 
At La Fleche, in Anjou, dwelt one Jer8me le Royer de 
la Dauversiere, receiver of taxes. His portrait shows 
us a round, bourgeois face, somewhat heavy perhaps, 
decorated with a slight mustache, and redeemed by 
bright and earnest eyes. On his head he wears a black 
skull-cap ; and over his ample shoulders spreads a stiff 
white collar, of wide expanse and studious plainness. 
Though he belonged to the noblesse, his look is that of 
a grave burgher, of good renown and sage deportment. 
Dauversiere was, however, an enthusiastic devotee, of 
mystical tendencies, who whipped himself with a scourge 
of small chains till his shoulders were one wound, wore 
a belt with more than twelve hundred sharj) points, and 
invented for himself other torments, wliich filled his 
confessor with admiration. One day, while at his devo- 
tions, he heard an inward voice commanding him to 
become the founder of a new Order of hospital nuns ; 
and he was further ordered to establish, on the island 
called Montreal, in Canada, a hospital, or H6tel-Dieu, 
to be conducted by these nuns. But Montreal was a 
wilderness, and the hospital would have no patients. 
Therefore, in order to supply them, the island must first 
be colonized. Dauversiere was greatly perplexed. On 
the One hand, the voice of Heaven must be obeyed ; 



106 MONTREAL. 

on the other, he had a wife, six children, and a very 
moderate fortune. 

Again : there was at Paris a young priest, about 
twenty-eight years of age, — Jean Jacques Olier, after- 
wards widely known as founder of the Seminary of St. 
Sulpice. Judged by his engraved portrait, his counte- 
nance, though marked both with energy and intellect, 
was anything but prepossessing. Every lineament pro- 
claims the priest. Yet the Abb^ Olier has high titles 
to esteem. He signalized his piety, it is true, by the 
most disgusting exploits of self-mortification ; but, at 
the same time, he was strenuous in his efforts to reform 
the people and the clergy. So zealous was he for good 
morals, that he drew upon himself the imputation of a 
leaning to the heresy of the Jansenists, — a suspicion 
strengthened by his opposition to certain priests, who, 
to secure the faithful in their allegiance, justified them 
in lives of licentiousness. Yet Olier's catholicity was 
past attaintment, and in his horror of Jansenists he 
yielded to the Jesuits alone. 

He was praying in the ancient church of St. Germain 
des Pres, when, like Dauversiere, he thought he heard 
a voice from Heaven, saying that he was destined to be 
a light to the Gentiles. It is recorded as a mystic coin- 
cidence attending this miracle, that the choir was at 
that very time chanting the words. Lumen ad 7-evela- 
tionem Gentium ; and it seems to have occurred neither 
to Olier nor to his biographer, that, falling on the ear 
of the rapt worshipper, they might have unconsciously 
suggested the supposed revelation. But there was a 
further miracle. An inward voice told Olier tliat he 
was to form a society of priests, and establish them on 
the island called Montreal, in Canada, for the propa- 
gation of the True Faith ; and writers okl and recent 



THE BIRTH OF MONTREAL. 107 

assert, that, while both he and Dauversiere were totally 
ignorant of Canadian geography, they suddenly found 
themselves in possession, they knew not how, of the 
most exact details concerning Montreal, its size, shape, 
situation, soil, climate, and productions. 

The annual volumes of the Jesuit Belat{o7is, issuing 
from the renowned press of Cramoisy, were at this time 
spread broadcast throughout France ; and, in the circles 
of haute devotion, Canada and its missions were every- 
where the themes of enthusiastic discussion ; while 
Champlain, in his published works, had long before 
pointed out Montreal as the proper site for a settlement. 
But we are entering a region of miracle, and it is super- 
fluous to look far for explanations. The illusion, in 
these cases, is a part of the history. 

Dauversiere pondered the revelation he had received ; 
and the more he pondered, the more was he convinced 
that it came from God. He therefore set out for Paris, 
to find some means of accomplishing the task assigned 
him. Here, as he prayed before an image of the Virgin 
in the church of Notre-Daaiie, he fell into an ecstasy, 
and beheld a vision. " I should be false to the integrity 
of history," writes his biographer, " if I did not relate 
it here." And he adds, that the reality of this celestial 
favor is past doubting, inasmuch as Dauversiere himself 
told it to his daughters. Christ, the Virgin, and St. 
Joseph appeared before him. He saw them distinctly. 
Then he heard Christ ask three times of his Virgin 
Mother, Where can I find a faithful servant f On which, 
the Virgin, taking him (Dauversiere) by the hand, 
replied. See, Lord, here is that faithful servant! — and 
Christ, with a benignant smile, received him into his ser- 
vice, promising to bestow on him wisdom and strength to 
do his work. From Paris he went to the neighboring 



108 MONTKEAL. 

chateau of Meudon, which overlooks the valley of the 
Seine, not far from St. Cloud. Entering the gallery 
of the old castle, he saw a priest approaching him. It 
was Olier. Now we are told that neither of these men 
had ever seen or heard of the other ; and yet, says the 
pious historian, " impelled by a kind of inspiration, they 
knew each other at once, even to the depths of their 
hearts ; saluted each other by name, as we read of St. 
Paul, the Hermit, and St. Anthony, and of St. Dominic 
and St. Francis; and ran to embrace each other, like 
two friends who had met after a long separation." 

" Monsieur," exclaimed Olier, " I know your design, 
and I go to commend it to God at the holy altar." 

And he went at once to say mass in the chapel. 
Dauversiere received the communion at his hands ; and 
then they walked for three hours in the park, discussing 
their plans. They were of one mind, in respect both to 
objects and means ; and when they parted, Olier gave 
Dauversiere a hundred louis, saying, " Tliis is to begin 
the work of God." 

They proposed to found at Montreal three religious 
communities, — three being the mystic number, — one 
of secular priests to direct the colonists and convert the 
Indians, one of nuns to nurse the sick, and one of nuns 
to teacli the Faith to the children, white and red. To 
borrow their own phrases, they would plant the banner 
of Christ in an abode of desolation and a haunt of 
demons ; and to this end a band of priests and women 
were to invade the wilderness, and take post between 
the fangs of the Iroquois. But first they must make 
a colony, and to do so must raise money. Olier had 
pious and wealthy penitents ; Dauversiere had a friend, 
the Baron de Fancamp, devout as himself and far richer. 
Anxious' for his soul, and satisfied that the enterprise 



THE BIRTH OF MONTREAL. 109 

was an inspiration of God, he was eager to bear part in 
it. Olier soon found three others ; and the six together 
formed the germ of the Society of Notre-Dame de Mon- 
treal. Among them they raised the sum of seventy-five 
thousand livres, equivalent to about as many dollars at 
the present day. 

Now to look for a moment at their plan. Their 
eulogists say, and with perfect truth, that, from a 
worldly point of view, it was mere folly. The partners 
mutually bound themselves to seek no return for the 
money expended. Their profit was to be reaped in the 
skies : and, indeed, there was none to be reaped on 
earth. The feeble settlement at Quebec was at this 
time in danger of utter ruin ; for the Iroquois, enraged 
at the attacks made on them by Champlain, had begun 
a fearful course of retaliation, and the very existence of 
the colony trembled in the balance. But if Quebec was 
exposed to their ferocious inroads, Montreal was in- 
comparably more so. A settlement here would be a 
perilous outpost, — a hand thrust into the jaws of the 
tiger. It would provoke attack, and lie almost in the 
path of the war-parties. The Associates could gain noth- 
ing by the fur-trade ; for they would not be allowed to 
share in it. On the other hand, danger apart, the place 
was an excellent one for a mission ; for here met two 
great rivers : the St. Lawrence, with its countless trilj- 
utaries, flowed in from the west, while the Ottawa de- 
scended from the north ; and Montreal, embraced by 
their uniting waters, was the key to a vast inland navi- 
gation. Thither the Indians would naturally resort; 
and thence the missionaries could make their way into 
the heart of a boundless heathendom. None of the ordi- 
nary motives of colonization had part in this design. It 
owed its conception and its birth to religious zeal alone. 



110 MONTREAL. 

The island of Montreal belonged to Lauson, former 
president of the great company of the Hundred Associ- 
ates ; and his son had a monopoly of fishing in the 
St. Lawrence. Dauversiere and Fancamp, after much 
diplomacy, succeeded in persuading the elder Lauson to 
transfer his title to them ; and, as there was a defect in 
it, they also obtained a grant of the island from the 
Hundred Associates, its original owners, who, however, 
reserved to themselves its western extremity as a site 
for a fort and storehouses. At the same time, the 
younger Lauson granted them a right of fisliery within 
two leagues of the shores of the island, for which they 
were to make a yearly acknowledgment of ten pounds 
of fish. A confirmation of these grants was obtained 
from the King. Dauversiere and his companions were 
now seigneurs of Montreal. They were empowered to 
appoint a governor, and to establish courts, from which 
there was to be an appeal to the Supreme Court of 
Quebec, supposing such to exist. They were excluded 
from the fur-trade, and forbidden to build castles or forts 
other than such as were necessary for defence against 
the Indians. 

Their title assured, they matured their plan. First 
they would send out forty men to take possession of 
Montreal, intrench themselves, and raise crops. Then 
they would build a house for the priests, and two con- 
vents for the nuns. Meanwhile, Olier was toiling at 
Vaugirard, on the outskirts of Paris, to inaugurate the 
seminary of priests, and Dauversiere at La Fleche, to 
form the community of hospital nuns. How the school 
nuns were provided for we shall see hereafter. The 
colony, it will be observed, was for the convents, not the 
convents for the colony. 

Tlic Associates needed a soldier-governor to take 



THE BIRTH OF MONTKEAL. Ill 

charge of their forty men ; and, directed as they sup- 
posed by Providence, they found one wholly to their 
mind. This was Paul de Chomedey, Sieur de Maison- 
neuve, a devout and valiant gentleman, who in long 
service among the heretics of Holland had kept his 
faith intact, and had held himself resolutely aloof from 
the license that surrounded him. He loved his profes- 
sion of arms, and wished to consecrate his sword to the 
Church. Past all comparison, he is the manliest figure 
that appears in this group of zealots. The piety of the 
design, the miracles that inspired it, the adventure and 
the peril, all combined to charm him ; and he eagerly em- 
braced the enterprise. His father opposed his purpose ; 
but he met him with a text of St. Mark, " There is no 
man that hath left house or brethren or sisters or father 
for my sake, but he shall receive an hundred-fold." On 
this the elder Maisonneuve, deceived by his own world- 
liness, imagined that the plan covered some hidden 
speculation, from which enormous profits were expected, 
and therefore withdrew his opposition, 

Their scheme was ripening fast, when both Olier and 
Dauversi^re were assailed by one of those revulsions of 
spirit, to which saints of the ecstatic school are natu- 
rally liable. Dauversiere, in particular, was a prey to 
the extremity of dejection, uncertainty, and misgiving. 
What had he, a family man, to do with ventures beyond 
sea? Was it not his first duty to support his wife and 
children ? Could he not fulfil all his obligations as a 
Christian by reclaiming the wicked and relieving the 
poor at La Fleche ? Plainly, he had doubts that his 
vocation was genuine. If we could raise the curtain of 
his domestic life, perhaps we should find him beset by 
wife and daughters, tearful and wrathful, inveighing 
against his folly, and imploring him to provide a sup- 



112 MONTREAL. 

port for them before squandering his money to plant a 
convent of nuns in a wilderness. How long his lit of 
dejection lasted does not appear ; but at length he set 
himself again to his appointed work. Olier, too, emerg- 
ing from the clouds and darkness, found faith once 
more, and again placed himself at the head of the great 
enterprise. 

There was imperative need of more money ; and Dau- 
versiere, under judicious guidance, was active in obtain- 
ing it. This miserable victim of illusions had a squat, 
uncourtly figure, and was no proficient in the graces 
either of manners or of speech : hence his success in 
commending his olijects to persons of rank and wealth 
is set down as one of the many miracles which attended 
the birth of Montreal. But zeal and earnestness are 
in themselves a power ; and the ground had been well 
marked out and ploughed for him in advance. That 
attractive, though intricate, subject of study, the female 
mind, has always engaged the attention of priests, more 
especially in countries where as in France, Avomen exert 
a strong social and political influence. The art of kin- 
dling the flames of zeal, and the more difficult art of 
directing and controlling them, have been themes of re- 
flection the most diligent and profound. Accordingly 
we find that a large proportion of the money raised for 
this enterprise was contributed by devout ladies. Many 
of them became members of the Association of j\[on- 
treal, which was eventually increased to about forty-five 
persons, chosen for their devotion and their wealth. 

Olier and his associates had resolved, though not from 
any collapse of zeal, to postpone the establishment of 
the seminary and the college until after a settlement 
should be formed. The hospital, however, might, they 
thouG:ht, be begun at once ; for blood and blows would 



THE BIETII OF MONTREAL. 113 

be the assured portion of the first settlers. At least, a 
discreet woman ought to embark with the first colonists 
as their nurse and housekeeper. Scarcely was the need 
recognized when it was supplied. 

Mademoiselle Jeanne Mance was born of an honorable 
famik of Nogent-le-Roi, and in 1640 was thirty-four 
years of age. These Canadian heroines began their re- 
ligious experiences early. Of Marie de I'lncarnation we 
read, that at the age of seven Christ appeared to her 
in a vision ; and the biographer of Mademoiselle Mance 
assures us, with admiring gravity, that, at the same ten- 
der age, she bound herself to God by a vow of perpetual 
chastity. This singular infant in due time became a 
woman, of a delicate constitution, and manners graceful, 
yet dignified. Though an earnest devotee, she felt no 
vocation for the cloister ; yet, while still " in the world," 
she led the life of a nun. The Jesuit Relations, and the 
example of Madame do la Peltrie, of whom she had 
heard, inoculated her with the Canadian enthusiasm, 
then so prevalent ; and, under the pretence of visiting 
relatives, she made a journey to Paris, to take counsel 
of certain priests. Of one thing she was assured : the 
Divine will called her to Canada, but to what end she 
neither knew nor asked to know ; for she abandoned 
Iierself as an atom to be borne to unknown destinies on 
the breath of God. At Paris, Father St. Jure, a Jesuit, 
assured her that her vocation to Canada was, past 
doubt, a call from Heaven ; while Father Rapin, a Re- 
collet, spread abroad the fame of her virtues, and intro- 
duced her to many ladies of rank, wealth, and zeal. 
Then, well supplied with money for any pious work to 
which she might be summoned, she journeyed to Ro- 
chelle, whence ships were to sail for New France. Thus 
far she had been kept in ignorance of the plan with 



114 MONTREAL 

regard to ISIontrcal ; but now Fiithcr La Place, a Jesuit, 
revealed it to her. On the day after her arrival at 
Rochelle, as she entered the Church of the Jesuits, she 
met Dauversiere coming out. " Then," says her biogra- 
pher, " these two persons, who had never seen nor heard 
of each other, were enlightened supernaturally, whereby 
their most hidden thoughts were mutually made known, 
as had happened already with M. Olier and this same M. 
de la Dauversiere." A long conversation ensued between 
them ; and the delights of this interview were never 
effaced from the mind of Mademoiselle Mance. " She 
used to speak of it like a seraph," writes one of her 
nuns, " and far better than many a learned doctor could 
have done." 

She had found her destiny. The ocean, the wilder- 
ness, the solitude, the Iroquois, — nothing daunted her. 
She would go to Montreal with Maisonneuve and his 
forty men. Yet, when the vessel was about to sail, a 
new and sharp misgiving seized her How could she, a 
woman, not yet bereft of youth or charms, live alone 
in the forest, among a troop of soldiers ? Her scruples 
were relieved by two of the men, who, at the last mo- 
ment, refused to embark without their wives, — and by 
a young woman, who, impelled by enthusiasm, escaped 
from her friends, and took passage, in spite of them, in 
one of the vessels. 

All was ready ; the ships sot sail ; but Olier, Dauver- 
siere, and Fancamp remained at home, as did also the 
other Associates, with the exception of Maisonneuve 
and Mademoiselle Mance. In the following February, 
an impressive scene took place in the Church of Notre- 
Dame, at Paris. The Associates, at this time number- 
ing about forty-five, with Olier at their head, assembled 
before the altar of the Virijin, and, hx a solemn ceremo- 



THE BIRTH OF MONTREAL. 115 

nial, consecrated Montreal to the Holy Family. Hence- 
forth it was to be called Vlllemarie de Montreal, — a 
sacred town, reared to the honor and under the patron- 
age of Christ, St. Joseph, and the Virgin, to be typified 
by three persons on earth, founders respectively of the 
three destined communities, — Olier, Dauversiere, and 
a maiden of Troyes, Marguerite Bourgeoys : the semi- 
nary to be consecrated to Christ, the Hotel-Dieu to St. 
Joseph, and the college to the Virgin. 

But we are anticipating a little ; for it was several 
years as yet before Marguerite Bourgeoys took an active 
part in the work of Montreal. She was the daughter of 
a respectable tradesman, and was now twenty-two years 
of age. Her portrait has come down to us ; and her 
face is a mirror of loyalty and womanly tenderness. 
Her qualities were those of good sense, conscientious- 
ness, and a warm heart. She had known no miracles, 
ecstasies, or trances ; and though afterwards, when her 
religious susceptibilities had reached a fuller develop- 
ment, a few such are recorded of her, yet even the Abb^ 
Faillon, with the best intentions, can credit her with but 
a meagre allowance of these celestial favors. Though 
in the midst of visionaries, she distrusted the super- 
natural, and avowed her belief, that, in His government 
of the world, God does not often set aside its ordinary 
laws. Her religion was of the affections, and was mani- 
fested in an absorbing devotion to duty. She had felt 
no vocation to the cloister, but had taken the vow of 
chastity, and was attached, as an externe, to the Sisters 
of the Congregation of Troyes, who were fevered with 
eagerness to go to Canada. Marguerite, however, was 
content to wait until there was a prospect that she could 
do good by going; and it was not till the year 1653, that, 
renouncing an inheritance, and giving all she had to the 



116 MONTREAL. 

poor, she embarked for the savage scene of her labors. 
To this day, in crowded scliool-rooms of Montreal and 
Quebec, fit monuments of her unobtrusive virtue, her 
successors instruct the children of the poor, and embalm 
the pleasant memory of Marguerite Bourgeoys. In the 
martial figure of Maisonneuve, and the fair form of this 
gentle nun, we find the true heroes of Montreal. 

Maisonneuve, with his forty men and four women, 
reached Quebec too late to ascend to Montreal that 
season. They encountered distrust, jealousy, and oppo- 
sition. The agents of the Company of the Hundred 
Associates looked on tliem askance ; and the Governor 
of Quebec, Montmagny, saw a rival governor in Maison- 
neuve. Every means was used to persuade tlie advent- 
urers to abandon their project, and settle at Quebec. 
Montmagny called a council of the principal persons of 
his colony, who gave it as their opinion that the newr 
comers had better exchange Montreal for the Island of 
Orleans, where they would be in a position to give and 
receive succor ; while, by persisting in their first design, 
they would expose themselves to destruction, and be of 
use to nobody. Maisonneuve, who was present, expressed 
his surprise that they should assume to direct his affairs. 
" I have not come here," he said, " to deliberate, but 
to act. It is my duty and my lionor to found a col- 
ony at Montreal ; and 1 would go, if every tree were an 
Iroquois ! " 

At Quebec there was little ability and no inclination 
to shelter the new colonists for the winter ; and they 
would have fared ill, but for the generosity of M. Pui- 
seaux, who lived not far distant, at a place called St. 
Michel. This devout and most liospitable person made 
room for tliom all in liis rough, but capacious dwelling. 
Tlu'ir neighbors were the hospital nuns, then living at 



THE BIRTH OF MONTREAL. 117 

the mission of Sillery, in a substantial, but comfortless 
house of stone ; where, amidst destitution, sickness, and 
irrepressible disgust at the filth of the savages whom 
they had in charge, they were laboring day and night 
with devoted assiduity. Among the minor ills which 
beset them were the eccentricities of one of their lay 
sisters, crazed with religious enthusiasm, who had the 
care of their poultry and domestic animals, of which 
she was accustomed to inquire, one by one, if they loved 
God ; when, not receiving an immediate answer in the 
affirmative, she would instantly put them to death, 
telling them that their impiety deserved no better 
fate. 

Early in May, Maisonneuve and his followers em- 
barked. They had gained an unexpected recruit during 
the winter, in the person of Madame de la Peltrie, 
foundress of the Ursulines of Quebec. The piety, the 
novelty, and the romance of their enterprise, all had 
their charms for the fair enthusiast; and an irresisti- 
ble impulse — imputed by a slandering historian to the 
levity of her sex — urged her to share their fortunes. 
Her zeal was more admired by the Montrealists whom 
she joined than by the Ursulines whom she abandoned. 
She carried off all the furniture she had lent them, 
and left them in the utmost destitution. Nor did she 
remain quiet after reaching Montreal, but was presently 
seized with a longing to visit the Hurons, and preach 
the Faith in person to those benighted heathen. It 
needed all the eloquence of a Jesuit, lately returned 
from that most arduous mission, to convince her that 
the attempt would be as useless as rash. 

It was the eighth of May when Maisonneuve and 
his followers embarked at St. Michel ; and as the boats, 
deep-laden with men, arms, and stores, moved slowly on 



118 MONTREAL. 

their way, the forest, with leaves just opening in the 
warmth of spring. Lay on their right hand and on their 
left, in a flattering semblance of tranquillity and peace. 
But behind woody islets, in tangled thickets and damp 
ravines, and in the shade and stillness of the columned 
woods, lurked everywhere a danger and a terror. 

On the seventeenth of May, 1642, Maisonneuve's little 
flotilla — a pinnace, a flat-bottomed ci-aft moved by sails, 
and two row-boats — approached Montreal ; and all on 
board raised in unison a hymn of praise. Montmagny 
was with them, to deliver the island, in behalf of the 
Company of the Hundred Associates, to Maisonneuve, 
representative of the Associates of Montreal. And here, 
too, was Father Vimont, Superior of the missions ; for 
the Jesuits had been prudently invited to accept the 
spiritual charge of the young colony. On the following 
day, they glided along the green and solitary shores now 
thronged with the life of a busy city, and landed on the 
spot which Champlain, thirty-one years before, had 
chosen as the fit site of a settlement. It was a tongue 
or triangle of land, formed by the junction of a rivulet 
with the St. Lawrence, and known afterwards as Point 
Calliere. Tlie rivulet was bordered by a meadow, and 
beyond rose the forest with its vanguard of scattered 
trees. Early spring flowers were blooming in the young 
grass, and birds of varied plumage flitted among the 
boughs. 

Maisonneuve sprang ashore, and fell on his knees. 
His followers imitated his example ; and all joined their 
voices in enthusiastic songs of thanksgiving. Tents, 
baggage, arms, and stores were landed. An altar was 
raised on a pleasant spot near at hand ; and Mademoi- 
selle Mance, with Madame de la Peltrie, aided by her 
servant, Charlotte Barre, decorated it with a taste which 



THE BIRTH OF MONTREAL. 119 

was the admiration of the belioldcrs. Now all the com- 
pany gathered before the shrine. Here stood Vimont, 
in the rich vestments of his office. Here were the two 
ladies, with their servant ; Montmagny, no very willing 
spectator ; and Maisonneuve, a warlike figure, erect and 
tall, his men clustering around him, — soldiers, sailors, 
artisans, and laborers, — all alike soldiers at need. They 
kneeled in reverent silence as the Host was raised aloft ; 
and when the rite was over, the priest turned and 
addressed them : — 

" You are a grain of mustard-seed, that shall rise and 
grow till its branches overshadow the earth. You are 
few, but your work is the work of God. His smile is on 
you, and your children shall fill the land." 

The afternoon waned ; the sun sank behind the west- 
ern forest, and twilight came on. Fireflies were twin- 
kling over the darkened meadow. They caught them, 
tied them with threads into shining festoons, and hung 
them before the altar, where the Host remained exposed. 
Then they pitched their tents, lighted their bivouac fires, 
stationed their guards, and lay down to rest. Such was 
the birth-night of Montreal. 

Is this true history, or a romance of Christian chivalry ? 
It is both. 

A few years later there was another emigration to 
Montreal, of a character much like the first. The pious 
little colony led a struggling and precarious existence. 
Many of its inhabitants were killed by the Iroquois, and 
its escape from destruction was imputed to the interven- 
tion of the Holy Virgin. The place changed as years 
went on, and became a great centre of the fur trade, 
though still bearing strong marks of its pristine charac- 
ter. The institutions- of religion and charity planted 
by its founders remain to this day, and the Seminary 



120 MONTKEAL. 

of St. SulpicG holds vast possessions in and around 
the city. During the war of 1755-1760, Montreal 
was a base of military operations. In the latter year 
three English armies advanced upon it from three 
different points, united before its walls, and forced 
Governor Vaudreuil to surrender all Canada to the 
British Crown. 



QUEBEC. 



INFANCY OF QUEBEC. 

CHAMPLAIN was the founder of this old capital of 
French Canada, whose existence began in 1608. 
In that year he built a cluster of fortified dwellings and 
storehouses, which he called " The Habitation of Que- 
bec," and which stood on or near the site of the market- 
}»lace of the Lower Town. 

The settlement made little progress for many years. 
A company of merchants held the monopoly of its fur- 
trade, by which alone it lived. It was half trading- 
factory, half mission. Its permanent inmates did not 
exceed fifty or sixty persons, — fur-traders, friars, and 
two or three wretched families, who had no inducement 
and little wish to labor. The fort is facetiously repre- 
sented as having two old women for garrison, and a 
brace of hens for sentinels. All was discord and dis- 
order. Champlain was the nominal commander; but 
the actual authority was with the merchants, who held, 
excepting the friars, nearly every one in their pay. 
Each was jealous of the other, but all were united in 
a common jealousy of Champlain. From a short-sighted 
view of self-interest, they sought to check the coloniza- 
tion which they were pledged to promote. The few 
families whom they brought over were forbidden to 
trade with the Indians, and comi)elled to sell the fruits 
of their labor to the agents of the company at a low, 
fixed price, receiving goods in return at an inordinate 



124 QUEBEC. 

valuation. Some of the merchants were of Rouen, some 
of St. Malo ; some were Catholics, some were Huguenots. 
Hence unceasing bickerings. All exercise of the Re- 
formed Religion, on land or water, was prohibited within 
the limits of New France ; but the Huguenots set the 
prohibition at nought, roaring their heretical psalmody 
with such vigor from their ships in the river, that the 
unhallowed strains polluted the ears of the Indians on 
sliorc. The merchants of Rochelle, who had refused to 
join the company, carried on a bold, illicit traffic along 
the borders of the St. Lawrence, eluding pursuit, or, if 
hard pressed, showing fight ; and this was a source of 
perpetual irritation to tlie incensed monopolists. 

Champlain, in his singularly trying position, displayed 
a mingled zeal and fortitude. He went every year to 
France, laboring for the interests of the colony. To 
throw open the trade to all competitors was a measure 
beyond the wisdom of the times ; and he aimed only so 
to bind and regulate the monopoly as to make it sub- 
serve the generous purpose to which he had given him- 
self. He had succeeded in binding the company of 
merchants with new and more stringent engagements ; 
and, in tlio vain belief that these might not be wholly 
broken, he began to conceive fresh hopes for the colony. 
In this faith he embarked with his wife for Quel)ec in 
the spring of 1620 ; and, as the boat drew near the 
landing, the cannon welcomed her to the rock of lier 
banishment. The buildings were falling to ruin ; rain 
entered on all sides ; the court-yard, says Champlain, 
was as squalid and dilapidated as a grange pillaged by 
soldiers. Madame de Champlain was still very young. 
If the Ursuline tradition is to be trusted, the Indians, 
amazed at her beauty and touched by her gentleness, 
would have worshipped her as a divinity. Her husband 



INFANCY OF QUEBEC. 125 

had married her at the age of twelve; when, to his 
horror, he presently discovered that she was infected 
with the heresies of her father, a disguised Huguenot. 
He addressed himself at once to her conversion, and his 
pious efforts were something mure than successful. Dur- 
ing the four years which she passed in Canada, her zeal, 
it is true, was chiefly exercised in admonishing Indian 
squaws and catechising their children ; but, on her re- 
turn to France, nothing would content her but to become 
a nun. Champlain refused ; but, as she was childless, 
he at length consented to a virtual, though not formal, 
separation. After his death slic gained her wish, be- 
came an Ursuline nun, founded a convent of that order 
at ]\Icaux, and died with a reputation almost saintly. 

A stranger visiting the fort of Quebec would have 
been astonished at its air of conventual decorum. Black 
Jesuits and scarfed officers mingled at Champlain's 
table. There was little conversation, but, in its place, 
histories and the lives of saints were read aloud, as in 
a monastic refectory. Prayers, masses, and confessions 
followed each other with an edifying regularity, and the 
bell of the adjacent chapel, built by Champlain, rang 
morning, noon, and night. Godless soldiers caught the 
infection, and whipped themselves in penance for their 
sins. Debauclied artisans outdid each other in the fury 
of their contrition. Quebec was become a Mission. 
Indians gathered thither as of old, not from the baneful 
lure of brandy, for the traffic in it was no longer tol- 
erated, but from the less ])ernicious attractions of gifts, 
kind words, and politic blandishments. To the vital 
principle of propagandism the commercial and the mili- 
tary character were subordinated ; or, to speak more 
justly, trade, policy, and military power leaned on the 
missions as their main su])port, tlie grand instrument of 



126 QUEBEC. 

their extension. The missions were to explore the 
interior ; tlie missions were to win over the savage 
hordes at once to Heaven and to France. 

Years passed. The mission of the Hnrons was es- 
tablished, and here the indomitable Brdbeuf, with a band 
worthy of him, toiled amid miseries and perils as fearful 
as ever shook the constancy of man ; while Champlain 
at Quebec, in a life uneventful, yet harassing and labori- 
ous, was busied in the round of cares which his post 
involved. 

Christmas day, 1635, was a dark day in the annals of 
New France. In a chamber of the fort, breathless and 
cold, lay the hardy frame wiiich war, the wilderness, and 
the sea had buffeted so long in vain. After two months 
and a half of illness, Champlain, at the age of sixty-eight, 
was dead. His last cares were for his colony and the 
succor of its suffering families. Jesuits, officers, sol- 
diers, traders, and the few settlers of Quebec followed 
his remains to the church ; Le Jeune pronounced his 
eulogy, and the feeble community built a tomb to his 
honor. 

The colony could ill spare him. For twenty-seven 
years he had labored hard and ceaselessly for its welfare, 
sacrificing fortune, repose, and domestic peace to a cause 
embraced with enthusiasm and pursued with intrepid 
persistency. His character belonged partly to the past, 
partly to the present. The preux chevalier, the crusader, 
the romance-loving explorer, the curious, knowledge- 
seeking traveller, the practical navigator, all claimed 
their share in him. His views, though far beyond those 
of the mean spirits around him, belonged to his age and 
his creed. He was less statesman than soldier. He 
leaned to the most direct and boldest policy, and one 
of his last acts was to petition Richelieu for men and 



INFANCY OF QUEBEC. 127 

munitions for repressing- that standing menace to the 
colony, the Iroquois. His dauntless courage was matched 
by an unwearied patience, a patience proved by life-long 
vexations, and not wholly subdued even by the saintly 
follies of his wife. He is charged with credulity, from 
which few of his age were free, and which in all- ages 
has been the foible of earnest and generous natures, too 
ardent to criticise, and too honorable to doubt the honor 
of others. Perhaps in his later years the heretic might 
like him more had the Jesuit liked him less. The 
adventurous explorer of Lake Pluron, the bold invader 
of the Iroquois, befits but indifferently the monastic 
sobrieties of the fort of Quebec and his sombre environ- 
ment of priests. Yet Champlain was no formalist, nor 
was his an empty zeal. A soldier from his youth, in an 
age of unbridled license, his life had answered to his 
maxims ; and when a generation had passed after his 
visit to the Hurons, their elders remembered with 
astonishment the continence of the great French war- 
chief. 

His books mark the man, — all for his theme and his 
purpose, nothing for himself. Crude in style, full of 
the superficial errors of carelessness and haste, rarely 
diffuse, often brief to a fault, they bear on every page 
the palpable impress of truth. 



A MILITARY MISSION. 

QUEBEC was without a governor. Who should 
succeed Champlain ? and would his successor 
be found equally zealous for the Faith, and friendly to 
the mission ? These doubts, as he himself tells us, 
agitated the mind of the Father Superior, Le Jeune ; 
but they were happily set at rest, when, on a morning 
in June, he saw a ship anchoring in the basin below, 
and, hastening with his brethren to the landing-place, 
was there met by Charles Huault de Montmagny, a 
Knight of Malta, followed by a train of officers and 
gentlemen. As they all climbed the rock together, 
Montmagny saw a crucifix planted by the path. He 
instantly fell on his knees before it ; and nobles, soldiers, 
sailors, and priests imitated his example. The Jesuits 
sang Te Deum at the church, and the cannon roared 
from the adjacent fort. Here the new governor was 
scarcely installed, when a Jesuit came in to ask if ho 
would be godfather to an Indian about to be baptized. 
" Most gladly," replied the pious Montmagny. Ho 
repaired on the instant to the convert's hut, with a com- 
pany of gayly apparelled gentlemen ; and while the in- 
mates stared in amazement at the scarlet and embroidery, 
he bestowed on the dying savage the name of Joseph, 
in honor of the spouse of the Virgin and the patron of 
New France Three days after, he was told that a dead 
proselyte was to be buried , on which, leaving the lines 



A MILITARY MISSION. 129 

of the new fortification he was tracing, he took in hand 
a torch, Do Lisle, his lieutenant, took another, Repen- 
tig-ny and St. Jean, gentlemen of his suite, with a band 
of soldiers, followed, two priests bore the corpse, and 
thus all moved together in procession to the place of 
burial. The Jesuits were comforted. Champlain him- 
self had not displayed a zeal so edifying. 

A considerable reinforcement came out with Mont- 
magny, and among the rest several men of birth and 
substance, with their families and dependants. " It was 
a sight to thank God for," exclaims Father Le Jeune, 
" to behold these delicate young ladies and these tender 
infants issuing from their wooden prison, like day from 
the shades of night." The Father, it will be remembered, 
had for some years past seen nothing but squaws, with 
pappooses swathed like mummies and strapped to a 
board. 

Both Moutmagny and De Lisle were half churchmen, 
for both were Knights of Malta. More and more the 
powers spiritual engrossed the colony. As nearly as 
might be, the sword itself was in priestly hands. The 
Jesuits were all in all. Authority, absolute and without 
appeal, was vested in a council composed of the governor, 
Le Jeune, and the syndic, an ofiicial supposed to repre- 
sent the interests of the inhabitants. There was no 
tribunal of justice, and the governor pronounced sum- 
marily on all complaints. The church adjoined the 
fort ; and before it was planted a stake bearing a placard 
with a prohibition against blasphemy, drunkenness, or 
neglect of mass and other religious rites. To the stake 
was also attached a chain and iron collar ; and hard by 
was a wooden horse, whereon a culprit was now and 
then mounted by way of example and warning. In a 
community so absolutely priest-governed, overt offences 



130 QUEBEC. 

were, however, rare ; and, except on the annual arrival 
of the shijos from France, when the rock swarmed with 
godless sailors, Quehec was a model of decorum, and 
wore, as its chroniclers tell us, an aspect unspeakably 
edifying. 

In the year 1G40, various new establishments of 
religion and charity might have been seen at Quebec. 
There was the beginning of a college and a seminary 
for Huron children, an embryo Ursuline convent, an 
incipient hosi)ital, and a new Algonquin mission at a 
place called Sillery, four miles distant. Champlain's 
fort had been enlarged and partly rebuilt in stone by 
Montmagny, who liad also laid out streets on the site of 
the future city, though as yet the streets had no houses. 
Behind the fort, and very near it, stood the church and 
a house for the Jesuits. Both were of pine wood ; and 
this year, 1640, both were burned to the ground, to be 
afterwards rebuilt in stone. 

Aside from the fur trade of the Company, the whole 
life of the colony was in missions, convents, religious 
schools, and hospitals. Here on the rock of Quebec 
were the appendages, useful and otherwise, of an old- 
established civilization. While as yet there were no 
inhabitants, and no immediate hope of any, there were 
institutions for the care of children, the sick, and the 
decrepit. All these were supported by a charity in 
most cases precarious. Tlic Jesuits relied chiefly on 
the Company, who, l)y the terms of their patent, were 
obliged to maintain religious worship. 

Quebec wore an aspect half military, half monastic. 
At sunrise and sunset, a squad of soldiers in the pay of 
the Company paraded in the fort ; and, as in Champlain's 
time, the bells of the church rang morning, noon, and 
night. Confessions, masses, and penances were punc- 



A MILITARY MISSION. 131 

tiliously observed ; and, from the governor to the mean- 
est laborer, the Jesuit watched and guided alL The 
social atmosphere of New England itself was not more 
suffocating. By day and by night, at home, at church, 
or at his daily work, the colonist lived under the eyes 
of busy and over-zealous priests. At times, the denizens 
of Quebec grew restless. In 1639, deputies were covertly 
sent to beg relief in France, and " to represent the hell 
in which the consciences of the colony were kept by the 
union of the temporal and spiritual authority in the 
same hands." 

The very amusements of this pious community were 
acts of religion. Thus, on the fete-day of St. Joseph, 
the patron of New France, there was a show of fireworks 
to do him honor. In the forty volumes of the Jesuit 
delations there is but one pictorial illustration ; and 
this represents the pyrotechnic contrivance in question, 
together with a figure of the Governor in the act of 
touching it off. But, what is more curious, a Catholic 
writer of the present day, the Abbe Faillon, in an elabo- 
rate and learned work, dilates at length on the details 
of the display ; and this, too, with a gravity which 
evinces his conviction that squibs, rockets, blue-lights, 
and serpents are important instruments for the saving 
of souls. On May-Day of the same year, 1637, Mont- 
magny planted before the church a May-pole surmounted 
by a triple crown, beneath which were three symbolical 
circles decorated with wreaths, and bearing severally 
the names, lesus, 3Iaria, Joseph ; the soldiers drew up 
before it, and saluted it with a volley of musketry. 

On the anniversary of the Dauphin's birth there was 
a dramatic performance, in which an unbeliever, speaking 
Algonquin for the profit of the Indians present, was 
hunted into Hell by fiends. Religious processions were 



132 QUEBEC. 

frequent. In one of tliem, the Governor in a court 
dress and a baptized Indian in beaver-skins were joint 
supporters of the canopy which covered the Host. In 
another, six Indians led the van, arrayed each in a vel- 
vet coat of scarlet and gold sent them by the King. Then 
came other Indian converts, two and two ; then the 
foundress of the Ursuline convent, with Indian children 
in French gowns ; then all the Indian girls and women, 
dressed after their own way ; then the priests ; then the 
Governor ; and finally the whole French population, 
male and female, except the artillery-men at the fort, 
who saluted with their cannon the cross and banner 
borne at the head of the procession. Wiien all was 
over, the Governor and the Jesuits rewarded the Indians 
with a feast. 

Now let the stranger enter the church of Notre-Dame 
dc la E-ecouvrance, after vespers. It is full, to the very 
porch : officers in slouched hats and plumes, musketeers, 
pikemen, mechanics, and laborers. Here is Montmagny 
himself ; Repentigny and Poterie, gentlemen of good 
birth ; damsels of nurture ill fitted to the Canadian 
woods ; and, mingled with these, the motionless Indians, 
wrapped to the throat in embroidered moose-hides. Le 
Jeune, not in priestly vestments, but in the common 
black dress of his Order, is before the altar ; and on 
either side is a row of small red-skinned children lis- 
tening with exemplary decorum, while, with a cheerful, 
smiling face, he teaches them to kneel, clasp their hands, 
and sign the cross. All the principal members of this 
zealous community are present, at once amused and 
edified at the grave deportment, and the prompt, shrill 
replies of the infant catechumens ; while their parents in 
the crowd grin delight at the gifts of beads and trinkets 
with which Le Jeune rewards his most proficient pupils. 



A MILITARY MISSION. 133 

The methods of conversion were simple. The princi- 
pal appeal Avas to fear. " You do good to your friends," 
said Le Jeune to an Algoncjuin chief, " and you burn 
your enemies. God does the same." And he painted 
Hell to the startled neophyte as a place where, when he 
was hungry, he would get nothing to eat but frogs and 
snakes, and, when thirsty, nothing to drink but flames. 
Pictures were found invaluable. "These holy represen- 
tations," pursues the Father Superior, " arc half the 
instruction that can be given to the Indians. I wanted 
some pictures of Plell and souls in i)erdition, and a few 
were sent us on paper ; but they are too confused. The 
devils and the men are so mixed up, that one can make 
out nothing without particular attention. If three, four, 
or five devils were painted tormenting a soul with differ- 
ent punishments, — ■ one applying fire, another serpents, 
another tearing him with pincers, and another holding 
him fast with a chain, — this would have a good effect, 
especially if everything were made distinct, and misery, 
rage, and desperation appeared plainly in his face." 

The preparation of the convert for baptism was often 
very slight. A dying Algonquin, who, though meagre 
as a skeleton, had thrown himself, witli a last effort of 
expiring ferocity, on an Iroquois prisoner, and torn off 
his ear with his teeth, was baptized almost immediately. 
In the case of converts in health there was far more 
preparation ; yet these often apostatized. The various 
objects of instruction may all be included in one compre- 
hensive word, submission, — an abdication of will and 
judgment in favor of the spiritual director, who was the 
interpreter and vicegerent of God. 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 

LIKE Montreal, Quebec transformed itself in time 
lost much of its character of a mission, and be- 
came the scat of the colonial government. In short, it 
became secularized, though not completely so; for the 
priesthood still held an immense influence and disputed 
the mastery with the civil and military powers. 

In the beginning of William and Mary's War, Count 
Frontenac, governor of Canada, sent repeated war-par- 
ties to harass the New England borders ; and, in 1690, 
the General Court of Massachusetts resolved to retort 
by a decisive blow. Sir William Phips was chosen to 
command the intended expedition. Phips is said to 
have been one of twenty-six children, all of the same 
mother, and was born in 1650 at a rude border settle- 
ment, since called Woolwich, on the Kennel )cc. His 
parents were ignorant and poor ; and till eighteen years 
of age he was employed in keeping sheep. Such a life 
ill suited his active and ambitious nature. To better 
his condition, he learned the trade of ship-carpenter, 
and, in the exercise of it, came to Boston, where he 
married a widow with some property, beyond him in 
years, and much above him in station. About this time, 
he learned to read and write, though not too well, for 
his signature is like that of a peasant. Still aspiring to 
greater things, he promised his wife that he would one 
day command a king's ship and own a "fair l)rick house 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 135 

ill the Green Lane of North Boston," a quarter then 
occupied by citizens of the better class. He kept his 
word at both points. Fortune was inauspicious to him 
for several years ; till at length, under the pressure of 
reverses, he conceived the idea of conquering fame and 
wealth at one stroke, by fishing up the treasure said to 
be stored in a Spanish galleon wrecked fifty years before 
somewhere in the West Indian seas. Full of this proj- 
ect, he went to England, where, through influences 
which do not plainly appear, he gained a hearing from 
persons in high places, and induced the Admiralty to 
adopt his scheme. A frigate was given him, and lie 
sailed for the West Indies ; whence, after a long search, 
he returned unsuccessful, though not without adventures 
which proved his mettle. It was the epoch of the buc- 
caneers ; and liis crew, tired of a vain and toilsome 
search, came to the quarter-deck, armed with cutlasses, 
and demanded of their captain that he should turn pirate 
with them. Phips, a tall and powerful man, instantly 
fell upon them with his fists, knocked down the ring- 
leaders, and awed them all into submission. Not long 
after, there was a more formidable mutiny ; but, with 
great courage and address, he quelled it for a time, and 
held his crew to their duty till he had brought the ship 
into Jamaica, and exchanged them for better men. 

Though the leaky condition of the frigate compelled 
him to abandon the search, it was not till he had gained 
information which he thouglit would lead to success ; 
and, on his return, he inspired such confidence that the 
Duke of Albemarle, with other noblemen and gentlemen, 
gave him a fresh outfit, and despatched him again on 
his Quixotic errand. This time he succeeded, found the 
wreck, and took from it gold, silver, and jewels to the 
value of three hundred thousand pounds sterling. The 



136 QUEBEC. 

crew now leagued together to seize the ship and divide 
the prize; and Phips, pushed to extremity, was com- 
pelled to promise that every man of them should bavc 
a share in the treasure, even if he paid it himself. On 
reaching England, he kept his pledge so well that, after 
redeeming it, only sixteen thousand pounds was left as 
his portion, which, however, was an ample fortune in 
the New England of that day. He gained, too, what 
he valued almost as much, the honor of knighthood. 
Tempting offers were made him of employment in the 
royal service ; but he had an ardent love for his own 
country, and thither he presently returned. 

Phips was a rude sailor, bluff, prompt, and choleric. 
He never gave proof of intellectual capacity ; and such 
of his success in life as he did not owe to good luck was 
due probably to an energetic and adventurous spirit, 
aided by a blunt frankness of address that pleased the 
great, and commended him to their favor. Two years 
after the expedition against Quebec, the king, under the 
new charter, made him governor of Massachusetts, a 
post for which, though totally unfit, he had been recom- 
mended by the elder Mather, who, like his son Cotton, 
expected to make use of him. He carried his old habits 
into his new office, cudgelled Brinton, the collector of 
the port, and belabored Captain Short of the royal navy 
with his cane. Far from trying to hide the obscurity of 
his origin, he leaned to the opposite foible, and was apt 
to boast of it, delighting to exhibit himself as a self- 
made man. New England writers describe him as hon- 
est in private dealings ; but, in accordance with his 
coarse nature, he seems to have thought that anything 
is fair in war. On the other hand, he was warmly i)a- 
triotic, and was almost as ready to serve New England 
as to serve himself. 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 137 

Returning from an expedition to iLcadia, he found 
Boston alive with martial preparation. Massachusetts 
of her own motion had resolved to attempt the conquest 
of Quebec. She and her sister colonies had not yet re- 
covered from the exhaustion of Philip's War, and still 
less from the disorders that attended the expulsion of 
the royal governor and his adherents. The public treas- 
ury was empty, and the recent expeditions against the 
eastern Indians had been supported by private sub- 
scription. Worse yet. New England had no competent 
military commander. The Puritan gentlemen of the 
original emigration, some of whom were as well fitted 
for military as for civil leadersliip, had passed from the 
stage ; and, by a tendency which circumstances made 
inevitable, they had left none behind them equally quali- 
fied. The great Indian conflict of fifteen years before 
had, it is true, formed good partisan chiefs, and proved 
that the New England yeoman, defending his family and 
his hearth, was not to be surpassed in stubborn fighting ; 
but, since Andros and his soldiers had been driven out, 
there was scarcely a single man in the colony of the 
slightest training or experience in regular war. Up to 
this moment. New England had never asked help of the 
mother country. When thousands of savages burst on 
her defenceless settlements, she had conquered safety 
and peace with her own blood and her own slender re- 
sources ; but now, as the proposed capture of Quebec 
would inure to the profit of the British crown. Governor 
Bradstreet and his council thought it not unfitting to 
ask for a supply of arms and ammunition, of which they 
were in great need. The request was refused, and no 
aid of any kind came from the English government, 
whose resources were engrossed by the Irish war. 

While waiting for the reply, the colonial authorities 



138 QUEBEC. 

urged on their preparations, in the hope that the plunder 
of Quebec would pay the expenses of its conquest. 
Humility was not among the Ncav England virtues, and 
it was thought a sin to doubt that God would give his 
chosen people the victory over papists and idolaters ; 
yet no pains were spared to insure the divine favor. 
A proclamation was issued, calling the people to repent- 
ance ; a day of fasting was ordained ; and, as Mather 
expresses it, " the wheel of prayer was kept in continual 
motion." The chief difficulty was to provide funds. 
An attempt was made to collect a part of the money by 
private subscription ; but, as this plan failed, the provi- 
sional government, already in debt, strained its credit yet 
farther, and borrowed the needful sums. Thirty-two 
trading and fisliing vessels, great and small, were im- 
pressed for the service. The largest was a ship called 
the " Six Friends," engaged in the dangerous West 
India trade, and carrying forty-four guns. A call was 
made for volunteers, and many enrolled themselves ; 
but, as more were wanted, a press was ordered to com- 
plete the number. So rigorously was it applied that, 
what with voluntary and enforced enlistment, one town, 
that of Gloucester, was deprived of two thirds of its 
fencible men. There was not a moment of doubt as to 
the choice of a commander, for Phips was imagined to 
be the very man for the work. One John Walley, a 
respectable citizen of Barnstable, was made second in 
command, with the modest rank of major ; and a suffi- 
cient number of ship-masters, merchants, master me- 
chanics, and substantial farmers, were commissioned as 
subordinate officers. About the middle of July, the 
committee cliai-ged with the preparations reported that 
all was ready. Still tliere was a long delay. The ves- 
sel sent early in spring to ask aid from England liad 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 139 

not returned. Phips waited for her as long as he dared, 
and the best of the season was over when he resolved 
to put to sea. The rustic warriors, duly formed into 
companies, were sent on board ; and the fleet sailed 
from Nantasket on the ninth of August. Including 
sailors, it carried twenty-two hundred men, with pro- 
visions for four months, but insufficient ammunition and 
no pilot for the St. Lawrence. 

The delay at Boston, waiting aid from England that 
never came, was not propitious to Phips ; nor were the 
wind and the waves. The voyage to the St. Lawrence 
was a long one ; and when he began, without a pilot, to 
grope his wa}^up the unknown river, the weather seemed 
in league with his enemies. He appears, moreover, to 
have wasted time. What was most vital to his success 
was rapidity of movement ; yet, whether by his fault or 
his misfortune, he remained three weeks within three 
days' sail of Quebec. While anchored off Tadoussac, 
with the wind ahead, he passed the idle hours in holding 
councils of war and framing rules for the government 
of his men ; and, when at length the wind veered to 
the east, it is doubtful if he made the best use of his 
opportunity. 

When, after his protracted voyage, Phips sailed into 
the Basin of Quebec, one of the grandest scenes on the 
western continent opened upon his sight : the wide ex- 
panse of waters, the lofty promontory beyond, and the 
opposing heights of Levi ; the cataract of Montmorenci, 
the distant range of the Laurcntian Mountains, the war- 
like rock with its diadem of walls and towers, the roofs 
of the Lower Town clustering on the strand beneath, 
the Chateau St. Louis perched at the brink of the cliff, 
and over it the white banner, spangled with fleurs-de-lis, 
flaunting defiance in the clear autumnal air. Perhaps, 



140 QUEBEC. 

as he gazed, a suspicion seized him that the task he had 
undertaken was less easy than he had thought ; but he 
had conquered once by a simple summons to surrender, 
and he resolved to try its virtue again. 

The fleet anchored a little below Quebec ; and towards 
ten o'clock the French saw a boat put out from the ad- 
miral's ship, bearing a flag of truce. Four canoes went 
from the Lower Town, and met it midway. It brought 
a subaltern officer, who announced himself as the bearer 
of a letter from Sir William Phips to the French com- 
mander. He was taken into one of the canoes and 
paddled to the quay, after being completely blindfolded 
by a bandage which covered half his face. An officer 
named Prevost, sent by Count Frontenac, received him 
as he landed, and ordered two sergeants to take him by 
the arms and lead him to the governor. His progress 
was neither rapid nor direct. They drew him hither and 
thither, delighting to make him clamber in the dark 
over every possible obstruction ; while a noisy crowd 
hustled him, and laughing women called him Colin 
Maillard, the name of the chief player in blindman's 
buff. Amid a prodigious hubbub, intended to bewilder 
him and impress him with a sense of immense warlike 
preparation, they dragged him over the three barricades 
of Mountain Street, and brought him at last into a large 
room of the chateau. Here they took the bandage from 
his eyes. He stood for a moment with an air of as- 
tonishment and some confusion. The governor stood 
before him, haughty and stern, surrounded by French 
and Canadian officers, Maricourt, Sainte-Helene, Lon- 
gueuil, Villebon, Yalrenne, Bienville, and many more, 
bedecked with gold lace and silver lace, perukes and 
powder, plumes and ribbons, and all the martial foppery 
in which they took delight, and regarding the envoy 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 141 

with keen, defiant eyes. After a moment, he recovered 
his breath and his composure, saluted Frontenac, and, 
expressing- a wish that the duty assigned him had been 
of a more agreeable nature, handed him the letter 
of Phips. Frontenac gave it to an interpreter, who 
read it aloud in French that all might hear. It ran 
thus : — 

" Sir William Phips, Knight, General and Commander-in-chief in and over 
their Majesties' Forces of New England, by Sea and Land, to Count 
Frontenac, Lieutenant-General and Gorernour for the French King at 
Canada; or, in his absence, to his Depiiti/, or him or them in chief com- 
mand at Quebeck: 

" The war between the crowns of England and France doth 
not only sufficiently warrant, but the destruction made by the 
French and Indians, under your command and encouragement, 
upon the persons and estates of tlieir Majesties' subjects of New 
England, without provocation on their part, hath put them 
under the necessity of this expedition for their own security and 
satisfaction. And although the cruelties and barbarities used 
against them by the French and Indians might, upon the present 
opportunity, prompt unto a severe revenge, yet, being desirous to 
avoid all inhumane and unchristian-like actions, and to prevent 
shedding of blood as much as may be, 

" I, the aforesaid William Phips, Knight, do hereby, in the 
name and in the behalf of their most excellent Majesties, Wil- 
liam and Mary, King and Queen of England, Scotland, France, 
and Ireland, Defenders of the Faith, and by order of their said 
Majesties' government of the Massachuset-colony in New Eng- 
land, demand a present surrender of your forts and castles, 
undemolished, and the King's and other stores, imimbezzled, 
with a seasonable delivery of all captives ; together with a sur- 
render of all your persons and estates to mj dispose : upon the 
doing whereof, you may expect mercy from me, as a Christian, 
according to wliat shall be found for their Majesties' service 
and the subjects' security. Which, if you refuse forthwith to 



142 QUEBEC. 

do, I am come provided, and am resolved, by the help of God, 
in whom I trust, by force of arms to revenge all wrongs and 
injuries oifered, and bring yoii under subjection to the Crown 
of England, and, when too late, make you wish you had ac- 
cepted of tlie favour tendered. 

" Your answer positive in an hour, returned by your own 
trumpet, with the return of mine, is required upon the peril 
that will ensue." 

When the reading was finished, the Englishman 
pulled his watch from his pocket, and handed it to the 
governor. Frontenac could not, or pretended that he 
could not, see the hour. The messenger thereupon told 
him that it was ten o'clock, and that he must have his 
answer before eleven. A general cry of indignation 
arose; and Yalrenne called out that Phips was noth- 
ing but a pirate, and that his man ought to be hanged. 
Frontenac contained himself for a moment, and then 
said to the envoy : — 

" I will not keep you waiting so long. Tell your 
general that I do not recognize King William ; and that 
the Prince of Orange, who so styles himself, is a usurper, 
who has violated the most sacred laws of blood in at- 
tempting to dethrone his father-in-law. I know no king 
of England but King James. Your general ought not 
to be surprised at the hostilities which he says that the 
French have carried on in the colony of Massachusetts ; 
for, as the king my master has taken the king of Eng- 
land under his protection, and is about to replace him 
on his throne by force of arms, he might have expected 
that his Majesty would order me to make war on a 
people who have rebelled against their lawful prince." 
Then, turning with a smile to the officers about him : 
" Even if your general offered me conditions a little 
more gracious, and if I had a mind to acec]»t them, does 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 143 

he suppose that these brave gentlemen would give their 
consent, and advise me to trust a man who broke his 
agreement with the governor of Port Royal, or a rebel 
who has failed in his duty to his king, and forgotten all 
the favors he had received from him, to follow a prince 
who pretends to be the liberator of England and the 
defender of the faith, and yet destroys the laws and 
privileges of the kingdom and overthrows its religion ? 
The divine justice which your general invokes in his 
letter will not fail to punish such acts severely." 

The messenger seemed astonished and startled ; but 
he presently asked if the governor would give him his 
answer in writing. 

" No," returned Frontenac, " I will answer your gen- 
eral only by the mouths of my cannon, that he may learn 
that a man like me is not to be summoned after this 
fashion. Let him do his best, and 1 will do mine ; " 
and he dismissed the Englishman abruptly. He was 
again blindfolded, led over the barricades, and sent back 
to the fleet by the boat that brought him. 

Phips had often given proof of personal courage, but 
for the past three weeks his conduct seems that of a 
man conscious that he is charged with a work too large 
for his capacity. He had spent a good part of his time 
in holding councils of war ; and now, when he heard the 
answer of Frontenac, he called another to consider what 
should be done. A plan of attack was at length ar- 
ranged. The militia were to be landed on the shore of 
Beauport, which was just below Quebec, though sepa- 
rated from it by the St. Charles. They were then to 
cross this river by a ford practicable at low water, climb 
the heights of St. Genevieve, and gain the rear of the 
town. The small vessels of the fleet were to aid the 
movement by ascending the St. Charles as far as 



144 QUEBEC. 

the fortl, liolding the enemy in clieck by their fire, and 
carrying provisions, ammunition, and intrenching tools, 
for the use of the land troops. "When these had crossed 
and were ready to attack Quebec in the rear, Phips was 
to cannonade it in front, and land two hundred men 
under cover of his guns to effect a diversion by storm- 
ing the barricades. Some of the F]-encli i)risoners, from 
whom their captors appear to have received a great deal 
of correct information, told the admiral that there was a 
place a mile or two above the town where the heights 
might be scaled and the rear of the fortifications reached 
from a direction opposite to that proposed. This was 
precisely the movement by which Wolfe afterwards 
gained his memorable victory ; but Phips chose to abide 
by the original plan. 

While the plan was debated, the opportunity for ac- 
complishing it ebbed away. It was still early when the 
messenger returned from Quebec ; but, before Phips was 
ready to act, the day was on the wane and the tide was 
against him. He lay quietly at his moorings when, in 
the evening, a great shouting, mingled wMth the roll of 
drums and the sound of fifes, was heard from the Upper 
Town. The English officers asked their prisoner, Gran- 
ville, what it meant. "Ma foi. Messieurs," he rephed, 
"you have lost the game. It is the Governor of Mon- 
treal with the people from the country above. Tliere is 
nothing for you now but to pack and go home." In 
fact, Callieres had arrived with seven or eight hundred 
men, many of them regulars. With these were bands 
of conreurs de hois and other young Canadians, all full 
of fight, singing and whooping with martial glee as they 
passed the western gate and trooped down St. Louis 
Street. 

The next day was gusty nnd l)lustering; and still Phips 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 145 

lay quiet, waiting on the winds and the waves. A small 
vessel, with sixty men on board, under Captain Ephraim 
Savage, ran in towards the shore of Beauport to examine 
the landing, and stuck fast in the mud. The Canadians 
plied her with bullets, and brought a cannon to bear on 
her. They might have waded out and boarded her, but 
Savage and his men kept up so hot a fire that they 
forbore the attempt; and, when the tide rose, she floated 
again. 

There was another night of tranquillity ; but at about 
eleven on Wednesday morning the French heard the 
English fifes and drums in full action, while repeated 
shouts of " God save King William ! " rose from all the 
vessels. This lasted an hour or more ; after which a 
great number of boats, loaded with men, put out from 
the fleet and rowed rapidly towards the shore of Beau- 
port. The tide was low, and the boats grounded before 
reaching the landing-place. The French on the rock 
could see the troops through telescopes, looking in the 
distance like a swarm of black ants, as they waded 
through mud and water, and formed in companies along 
the strand. They were some thirteen hundred in num- 
ber, and were commanded by Major Walley. Frontenac 
had sent three hundred sharpshooters, under Sainte- 
Helene, to meet them and hold them in check. A bat- 
talion of troops followed ; but, long before they could 
reach the spot, Sainte-Hdlene's men, with a few militia 
from the neighboring parishes, and a band of Huron 
warriors from Lorette, threw themselves into the thick- 
ets along the front of the English, and opened a distant 
but galling fire upon the compact bodies of the enemy, 
Walley ordered a charge. The New England men rushed, 
in a disorderly manner, but with great impetuosity, up 
the rising ground ; received two volleys, which failed to 
10 



146 QUEBEC. 

check them ; and drove back the assailants in some 
confusion. They turned, however, and fought in Indian 
fashion with courage and address, leaping and dodging 
among trees, rocks, and bushes, firing as they retreated, 
and inflicting more harm than they received. Towards 
evening they disappeared ; and Walley, whose men had 
been much scattered in the desultory fight, drew them to- 
gether as well as he could, and advanced towards the St. 
Charles, in order to meet the vessels which were to aid 
him in passing the ford. Here he posted sentinels, and 
encamped for the night. He had lost four killed and 
about sixty wounded, and imagined that he had killed 
twenty or thirty of the enemy. In fact, however, their 
loss was much less, though among the killed was a 
valuable officer, the Chevalier de Clermont, and among 
the wounded the veteran captain of Beauport, Juchereau 
de Saint-Denis, more than sixty-four years of age. In 
the evening, a deserter came to the English camp, and 
brought the unwelcome intelligence that there were three 
thousand armed men in Quebec. 

Meanwhile, Phips, whose fault hitherto had not been 
an excess of promptitude, grew impatient, and made a 
premature movement inconsistent with the preconcerted 
plan. He left his moorings, anchored his largest ships 
before the town, and prepared to cannonade it ; but the 
fiery veteran who watched him from the Chateau St. 
Louis anticipated him, and gave him the first shot. Phips 
replied furiously, opening fire with every gun that he 
could bring to ])ear ; while the rock paid him back in 
kind, and belched flame and smoke from all its batteries. 
So fierce and rapid was the firing, tliat La Hontan com- 
pares it to volleys of musketry ; and old officers, who had 
seen many sieges, declared that they had never known 
the like. The din was prodigious, reverberated from tlie 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 147 

surrounding heights, and rolled back from the distant 
mountains in one continuous roar. On the part of the 
English, however, surprisingly little was accomplished 
beside noise and smoke. The practice of their gunners 
was so bad that many of their shot struck harmlessly 
against the face of the cliff. Their guns, too, were very 
light, and appear to have been charged with a view 
to the most rigid economy of gunpowder ; for the balls 
failed to pierce the stone walls of the buildings, and 
did so little damage that, as the French boasted, twenty 
crowns would have repaired it all. Night came at length, 
and the turmoil ceased. 

Phips lay quiet till daybreak, when Fronteuac sent a 
shot to waken him, and the cannonade began again. 
Sainte-Helene had returned from Beauport ; and he, 
with his brother Maricourt, took charge of the two bat- 
teries of the Lower Town, aiming the guns in person, 
and throwing balls of eighteen and twenty-four pounds 
with excellent precision against the four largest ships 
of the fleet. One of their shots cut the flagstaff of the 
admiral, and the cross of St. George fell into the river. 
It drifted with the tide towards the north shore ; where- 
upon several Canadians paddled out in a birch canoe, 
secured it, and brought it back in triumph. On the 
spire of the cathedral in the Upper Town had been 
hung a picture of the Holy Family, as an invocation of 
divine aid. The Puritan gunners wasted their ammuni- 
tion in vain attempts to knock it down. That it escaped 
their malice was ascribed to miracle, but the miracle 
would have been greater if they had hit it. 

At length, one of the ships, which had suffered most, 
hauled off and abandoned the fight. That of the admiral 
had fared little better, and now her condition grew des- 
l)erate. With her rigging torn, her mainmast half cut 



148 QUEBEC. 

througli, her mizzcn-mast splintered, her cabin pierced, 
and her hull riddled with shot, another volley seemed 
likely to sink her, when Phips ordered her to be cut 
loose from her moorings, and she drifted out of fire, 
leaving cable and anchor behind. The remaining ships 
soon gave over the conflict, and withdrew to stations 
where they could neither do harm nor suffer it. 

Phips had thrown away nearly all his ammunition in 
this futile and disastrous attack, wliich should have 
been deferred till the moment when Walley, with his 
land force, had gained the rear of the town. Walley 
lay in his camp, liis men wet, shivering with cold, 
famished, and sickening with the small-pox. Food, and 
all other supplies, were to have been brought him by 
the small vessels, which should have entered the mouth 
of the St. Cliarles and aided him to cross it. But he 
waited for them in vain. Every vessel that carried a 
gun had busied itself in cannonading, and the rest did 
not move. There appears to have been insubordination 
among the masters of these small craft, some of whom, 
being owners or part-owners of the vessels they com- 
manded, were probably unwilling to run them into 
danger. Walley was no soldier ; but he saw that to 
attempt the passage of the river without aid, under the 
batteries of the town and in tlic face of forces twice as 
numerous as his own, was not an easy task. Frontenac, 
on his part, says that he wished him to do so, knowing 
that the attempt would ruin him. The New England 
men were eager to push on ; but the night of Thursday, 
the day of Pliips's repulse, was so cold that ice formed 
more than an inch in thickness, and the half-starved 
militia suffered intensely. Six field-pieces, with their 
ammunition, had been sent ashore ; l)ut they were nearly 
useless, as there were no means of moving them. Half 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 149 

a barrel of musket powder, and one biscuit for each 
man, were also landed ; and with this meagre aid Walley 
was left to capture Quebec. He might, had he dared, 
have made a dash across the ford on the morning of 
Thursday, and assaulted the town in the rear while 
Phips was cannonading it in front ; but his courage was 
not equal to so desperate a venture. The firing ceased, 
and the possible opportunity was lost. The citizen 
soldier despaired of success ; and, on the morning of 
Friday, he went on board the admiral's ship to explain 
his situation. While he was gone, his men put them- 
selves in motion, and advanced along the borders of the 
St, Charles towards the ford. Frontenac, with three bat- 
talions of regular troops, went to receive them at the 
crossing ; while Sainte-Helene, with his brother Lon- 
gueuil, passed the ford with a body of Canadians, and 
opened fire on them from the neighboring thickets. 
Their advance parties were driven in, and there was a 
hot skirmish, the chief loss falling on the New England 
men, who were fully exposed. On the side of the French, 
Sainte-Helene Avas mortally wounded, and his brother 
was hurt by a spent ball. Towards evening, the Cana- 
dians withdrew, and the English encamped for the night. 
Their commander presently rejoined them. The admiral 
had given him leave to withdraw them to the fleet, and 
boats were accordingly sent to bring them off ; but, as 
these did not arrive till about daybreak, it was necessary 
to defer the embarkation till the next night. 

At dawn, Quebec was all astir with the beating of 
drums and the ringing of bells. The New England 
drums replied ; and Walley drew up his men under 
arms, expecting an attack, for the town was so near 
that the hubbub of voices from within could plainly be 
heard. The noise gradually died away ; and, except a 



150 QUEBEC. 

few shots from the ramparts, the invaders were left 
undisturbed. Walley sent two or three companies to 
beat up the neighboring thickets, where he suspected 
that the enemy was kirking. On the way, they had the 
good hick to find and kill a number of cattle, which 
they cooked and ate on the spot ; whereupon, being 
greatly refreshed and invigorated, they dashed forward 
in complete disorder, and were soon met by the fire of 
the ambushed Canadians. Several more companies were 
sent to their support, and the skirmishing became lively. 
Three detachments from Quebec had crossed the river ; 
and the militia of Beauport and Beaupre had hastened 
to join them. They fought like Indians, hiding behind 
trees or throwing themselves fiat among the bashes, 
and laying repeated ambuscades as they slowly fell 
back. At length, they all made a stand on a hill behind 
the buildings and fences of a farm ; and here they held 
their ground till night, while the New England men 
taunted them as cowards who would never fight except 
under cover, 

Walley, who with his main body had stood in arms all 
day, now called in the skirmishers, and fell back to the 
landing-place, where, as soon as it grew dark, the boats 
arrived from the fleet. The sick men, of whom there 
were many, were sent on board, and then, amid floods 
of rain, the wliole force embarked in noisy confusion, 
leaving behind them in the mud five of their cannon. 
Hasty as was their parting, their conduct on the whole 
had been creditable ; and La Hontan, who was in Quebec 
at the time, says of them, "They fought vigorously, 
though as ill-disciplined as men gathered together at 
random could be ; for they did not lack courage, and, 
if they failed, it was by reason of their entire ignorance 
of discipline, and because they were exliausted by the 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 151 

fatigues of the voyage/' Of Phips he speaks with 
contempt, and says that he could not have served the 
French better if they had bribed him to stand all the 
while with his arms folded. Some allowance should, 
nevertheless, be made him for the unmanageable char- 
acter of the force under his command, the constitution 
of which was fatal to military subordination. 

On Sunday, the morning after the re-embarkation, 
Phips called^a council of officers, and it was resolved 
that the men should rest for a day or two, that there 
should be a meeting for prayer, and that, if ammunition 
enouo-h could be found, another landing should be at- 
tempted: but the rough weather prevented the prayer- 
meeting, and the plan of a new attack was fortunately 
abandoned. 

Quebec remained in agitation and alarm till iuesday, 
when Phips weighed anchor and disappeared, with all 
his fleet, behind the Island of Orleans. He did not go 
far as indeed he could not, but stopped four leagues 
below to mend rigging, fortify wounded masts, and stop 
shot-holes. Subercase had gone with a detachment to 
watch the retiring enemy ; and Phips was repeatedly 
seen among his men, on a scaffold at the side of his 
ship, exercising his old trade of carpenter. This delay 
was turned to good use by an exchange of prisoners. 
Chief among those in the hands of the French was 
Captain Davis, late commander at Casco Bay ; and there 
were also two young daughters of Lieutenant Clark, who 
had been killed at the same place. Frontenac himself 
had humanely ransomed these children from the Indians ; 
and Madame de Champigny, wife of the intendant, had 
with equal kindness, bought from them a little girl 
named Sarah Gerrish, and placed her in charge ot 
the nuns at the HAtel-Dieu, who had become greatly 



152 QUEBEC. 

attached to her, while she, on her part, left them with 
reluctance. The French had the better in these ex- 
changes, receiving able-bodied men, and returning, with 
the exception of Davis, only women and children. 

The heretics were gone, and Quebec breathed freely 
again. Her escape had been a narrow one ; not that 
three thousand men, in part regular troops, defending 
one of the strongest positions on the continent, and 
commanded by Frontenac, could not defy the attacks of 
two thousand raw hshermen and farmers, led by an 
ignorant civilian, but the numbers which were a source 
of strength were at the same time a source of weakness. 
Nearly all the adult males of Canada were gathered at 
Quebec, and there was imminent danger of starvation. 
Cattle from the neighboring parishes had been hastily 
driven into the town ; but there was little other pro- 
vision, and before Phips retreated the pinch of famine 
had begun. Had he come a Aveek earlier or stayed a 
week later, the French themselves believed that Quebec 
would have fallen, in the one case for want of men, and 
in the other for want of food. 

Phips returned crestfallen to Boston late in Novem- 
ber ; and one by one the rest of the fleet came strag- 
gling after him, battered and weather-beaten. Some 
did not appear till February, and three or four never 
came at all. The autumn and early winter were un- 
usually stormy. Captain Rainsford, with sixty men, 
was wrecked on the Island of Anticosti, where more 
than half their number died of cold and misery. In the 
other vessels, some were drowned, some frost-bitten, and 
above two hundred killed by small-pox and fever. 

At Boston, all Avas dismay and gloom. The Puritan 
bowed before " this awful frown of God," and searched 
his conscience for the sin that had brought upon him so 



MASSACHUSETTS ATTACKS QUEBEC. 153 

stern a chastisement. Massachusetts, ah-eady impover- 
ished, found herself in extremity. The war, instead of 
paying for itself, had burdened her with an additional 
debt of fifty thousand pounds. The sailors and soldiers 
were clamorous for their pay ; and, to satisfy them, the 
colony was forced for the first time in its history to issue 
a paper currency. It was made receivable at a premium 
for all public debts, and was also fortified by a provision 
for its early redemption by taxation ; a provision which 
was carried into effect in spite of poverty and distress. 

Massachusetts had made her usual mistake. She had 
confidently believed that ignorance and inexperience 
could match the skill of a tried veteran, and that the 
rude courage of her fishermen and farmers could tri- 
umpli without discipline or leadership. The conditions 
of her material prosperity were adverse to efficiency in 
war. A trading republic, without trained officers, may 
win victories ; bat it wins them either by accident or by 
an extravagant outlay in money and life. 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 

" I ^HE early part of the Seven Years' War was disas- 
-*- trous to England. The tide turned with tlie ac- 
cession to power of the great war minister, William Pitt. 
In 1759, he sent General James Wolfe with a combined 
military and naval force to capture Quebec. The British 
troops numbered somewhat less than nine thousand, 
while Montcalm and Vaudreuil were posted to receive 
them, on positions almost impregnable, with an army 
of regulars, Canadians, and Indians, amounting in all 
to about sixteen thousand. The great height of the 
shores made the British shi[)s of little or no use for 
purposes of attack. 

Wolfe took possession of Point Levi, from which he 
bombarded Quebec. He also seized the high grounds 
just below the Montmorcnci, and vainly tried to cross 
that stream above the cataract and gain the rear of 
Montcalm's army, which lay encamped along the shore 
from the Montmorcnci to the city. Failing in this and 
every other attempt to force the enemy to a battle, he 
rashly resolved to attack them in front, up the steep 
declivities at the top of which they were intrenched. 
The grenadiers dashed forward prematurely and without 
orders, struggling desperately to scale the heights under 
a deadly fire. The result was a complete repulse, with 
heavy loss. 

The capture of Quebec now seemed hopeless. Wolfe 
was almost in despair. His body was as frail as his 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 155 

spirit was ardent and daring. Since the siege began 
he had passed with ceaseless energy from camp to 
camp, animating the troops, observing everything, 
and directing everything; but now the pale face and 
tall lean form were seen no more, and the rumor spread 
that the General was dangerously ill. He had in fact 
been seized by an access of the disease that had tortured 
him for some time past ; and fever had followed. His 
quarters were at a French farmhouse in the camp at 
Montmorenci ; and here, as he lay in an upper chamber, 
helpless in bed, his singular and most unmilitary fea- 
tures haggard with disease and drawn with pain, no 
man could less have looked the hero. But as the needle, 
though quivering, points always to the pole, so, through 
torment and languor and the heats of fever, the mind of 
Wolfe dwelt on the capture of Quebec. His illness, 
which began before the twentieth of August, had so 
far subsided on the twenty-fifth that Captain Knox 
wrote in liis Diary of that day : " His Excellency Gen- 
eral Wolfe is on the recovery, to the inconceivable joy 
of the whole army." On the twenty-ninth he was able 
to write or dictate a letter to the three brigadiers, 
Monckton, Townshend, and Murray: "That the public 
service may not suffer by the General's indisposition, 
he begs the brigadiers will meet and consult together 
for the public utility and advantage, and consider of the 
best method to attack the enemy." The letter then 
proposes three plans, all bold to audacity. The first 
was to send a part of the army to ford the Montmorenci 
eight or nine miles above its mouth, march through the 
forest, and fall on the rear of the French at Beauport, 
while the rest landed and attacked them in front. The 
second was to cross the ford at the moutli of the Mont- 
morenci and march along the strand, under the French 



156 QUEBEC. 

iiitrenchmeiits, till a i)lace could be found where the 
troops might climb the heights. The third was to make 
a general attack from boats at tlie Beauport flats. Wolfe 
had before entertained two other plans, one of which was 
to scale the heights at St. Michel, about a league above 
Quebec ; but this he had abandoned on learning that the 
French were there in force to receive him. The other 
was to storm the Lower Town ; but this also he had 
abandoned, because the Upper Town, which commanded 
it, would still remain inaccessible. 

The brigadiers met in consultation, rejected the three 
plans proposed in the letter, and advised that an attempt 
should be made to gain a footing on the north shore 
above the town, place the army between Montcalm and 
his base of supply, and so force him to fight or surren- 
der. The scheme was similar to that of the heights of 
St. Michel. It seemed desperate, but so did all the 
rest; and if by chance it should succeed, the gain was 
far greater than could follow any success below the 
town. Wolfe embraced it at once. 

Not that he saw much hope in it. He knew that 
every chance was against him. Disappointment in the 
past and gloom in the future, the pain and exhaustion 
of disease, toils, and anxieties " too great," in the words 
of Burke, "to be supported by a delicate constitution, 
and a body unequal to the vigorous and enterprising soul 
that it lodged," threw him at times into deep dejection. 
By those intimate with him he was heard to say that he 
Avould not go back defeated, "to be exposed to the cen- 
sure and reproach of an ignorant populace." In other 
moods he felt that he ought not to sacrifice what was 
left of his diminished army in vain conflict with hope- 
less obstacles. But his final resolve once taken, he 
would not swerve from it. His fear was that he might 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 157 

not be able to lead his troops in person. " I know per- 
fectly well you cannot cnre me," he said to his physician ; 
" bnt pray make me up so that I may be without pain 
for a few days, and able to do my duty : that is all I 
want." 

On the last of August, he was able for the first time to 
leave the house. It was on this same day that he wrote 
his last letter to his mother : " My writing to you will 
convince you that no personal evils worse than defeats 
and disappointments have fallen upon me. The enemy 
puts nothing to risk, and I can't in conscience put the 
whole army to risk. My antagonist has wisely shut 
himself uj) in inaccessible intrenchments, so that I can't 
get at him without spilling a torrent of blood, and that 
perhaps to little purpose. The Marquis de Montcalm is 
at the head of a great number of bad soldiers, and 1 
am at the head of a small number of good ones, that 
wish for nothing so much as to fight him ; but the wary 
old fellow avoids an action, doubtful of the behavior 
of his army. People must be of the profession to un- 
derstand the disadvantages and difficulties we labor 
under, arising from the uncommon natural strength of 
the country." 

On the second of September a vessel was sent to Eng- 
land with his last despatch to Pitt. It begins thus : 
" The obstacles we have met with in the operations of 
the campaign are much greater than we had reason to 
expect or could foresee ; not so much from the number 
of the enemy (though superior to us) as from the natu- 
ral strength of the country, which the Marquis of Mont- 
calm seems wisely to depend upon. When I learned 
that succors of all kinds had been thrown into Quebec ; 
that five battalions of regular troops, completed from the 
best inhabitants of the country, some of the troops of 



158 QUEBEC. 

the colony, and every Canadian that was able to bear 
arms, besides several nations of savages, had taken the 
field in a very advantageous situation, — I could not 
flatter myself that I should be able to reduce the place. 
1 sought, however, an occasion to attack their army, 
knowing well that with these troops I was able to fight, 
and hoping that a victory might disperse them." Then, 
after recounting the events of the campaign with ad- 
mirable clearness, he continues : " I found myself so ill, 
and am still so weak, that I begged the general officers 
to consult together for the general utility. They arc all 
of opinion that, as more ships and provisions are now 
got above the town, they should try, by conveying up 
a corps of four or five thousand men (wliich is nearly 
the whole strength of the army after the Points of Levi 
and Orleans are left in a proper state of defence), to 
draw the enemy from their present situation and bring 
them to an action. I have acquiesced in the proposal, 
and we are preparing to put it into execution." The let- 
ter ends thus : " By the list of disabled officers, many 
of whom are of rank, you may perceive that the army is 
much weakened. By the nature of the river, the most 
formidable part of this armament is deprived of the 
power of acting ; yet we have almost the whole force of 
Canada to oppose. In this situation there is such a 
choice of difficulties that I own myself at a loss how to 
determine. The affairs of Great Britain, I know, require 
the most vigorous measures ; but the courage of a hand- 
ful of brave troops should be exerted only when there 
is some hope of a favorable event ; however, you may 
be assured that the small part of the campaign which 
remains shall be employed, as far as I am able, for the 
honor of His Majesty and the interest of the nation, in 
which I am sure of being well seconded by the Admiral 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 159 

and by the generals ; happy if onr efforts here can con- 
tribute to the success of His Majesty's arms in any other 
parts of America." 

Perhaps he was as near despair as his undaunted 
nature was capable of being. In his present state of 
body and mind he was a hero without the light and 
cheer of heroism. He flattered himself with no illu- 
sions, but saw the worst and faced it all. He seems 
to have been entirely without excitement. The languor 
of disease, the desperation of the chances, and the great- 
ness of the stake may have wrought to tranquillize him. 
His energy was doubly tasked: to bear up his own 
sinking frame, and to achieve an almost hopeless feat 
of arms. 

Audacious as it was, his plan cannot be called rash 
if we may accept the statement of two well-informed 
writers on the French side. They say that on the tenth 
of September the English naval commanders held a 
council on board the flagship, in which it was resolved 
that the lateness of the season required the fleet to leave 
Quebec without delay. They say further that Wolfe 
then went to the Admiral, told him that he had found a 
place where the heights could be scaled, that he would 
send up a hundred and fifty picked men to feel the way, 
and that if they gained a lodgment at the top, the other 
troops should follow ; if, on the other hand, the French 
were there in force to oppose them, he would not sacri- 
fice the army in a hopeless attempt, but embark them 
for home, consoled by the thought that all had been 
done that man could do. On this, concludes the story, 
the Admiral and his officers consented to wait the 
result. 

As Wolfe had informed Pitt, his army was greatly 
weakened. Since the end of June his loss in killed 



160 QUEBEC. 

and wounded was more than eight hundred and fifty, 
including two colonels, two majors, nineteen captains, 
and thirty-four subalterns ; and to these were to be 
added a greater number disabled by disease. 

The squadron of Admiral Hohnes above Quebec had 
now increased to twenty-two vessels, great and small. 
One of the last that went up was a diminutive schooner, 
armed with a few swivels, and jocosely named the 
" Terror of France." She sailed by the town in broad 
daylight, the French, incensed at her impudence, blazing 
at her from all their batteries ; but she passed unharmed, 
anchored by the Admiral's ship, and saluted him tri- 
umphantly witli her swivels. 

Wolfe's first move towards executing his plan was the 
critical one of evacuating the camp at Montmorenci. 
This was accomplished on the third of September. 
Montcalm sent a strong force to fall on the rear of the 
retiring English. Monckton saw the movement from 
Point Levi, embarked two battalions in the boats of the 
fleet, and made a feint of landing at Beauport. Mont- 
calm recalled his troops to repulse the tlireatened attack ; 
and the English withdrew from Montmorenci unmolested, 
some to the Point of Orleans, others to Point Levi. On 
the night of the fourth a fleet of flat boats passed above 
the town with the baggage and stores. On the fifth, 
Murray, with four battalions, marched up to the River 
Etechemin, and forded it under a hot fire from the 
French batteries at Sillery. Monckton and Townshend 
followed with three more battalions, and the united 
force, of about thirty-six hundred men, was embarked 
on board the ships of Holmes, where "Wolfe joined them 
on the same evening. 

These movements of the English filled the French 
commanders with mingled perplexity, anxiety, and hope. 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 161 

A deserter told them that Admiral Saunders was im- 
patient to be gone. Vaudreuil grew confident. " The 
breaking up of the camp at Montmorenci," he says, 
" and the abandonment of the intrenchments there, the 
re-embarkation on board the vessels above Quebec of the 
troops who had encamped on the south bank, the move- 
ments of these vessels, the removal of the heaviest pieces 
of artillery from the batteries of Point Levi, — these and 
the lateness of the season all combined to announce the 
speedy departure of the fleet, several vessels of which 
had even sailed down the river already. The prisoners 
and the deserters who daily came in told us that this 
was the common report in their army." He wrote 
to Bourlamaque on the first of September : " Every- 
thing proves that the grand design of the English has 
failed." 

Yet he was ceaselessly watchful. So was Montcalm ; 
and he, too, on the night of the second, snatched a 
moment to write to Bourlamaque from his headquarters 
in the stone house, by the river of Beauport : " The 
night is dark ; it rains ; our troops are in their tents, 
with clothes on, ready for an alarm ; I in my boots ; 
my horses saddled. In fact, this is my usual way. I 
wish you were here ; for I cannot be everywhere, though 
I multiply myself, and have not taken off my clothes 
since the twenty-third of June." On the eleventh of 
September he wrote his last letter to Bourlamaque, and 
probably the last that his pen ever traced. " I am 
overwhelmed with work, and should often lose temper, 
like you, if I did not remember that I am paid by Europe 
for not losing it. Nothing new since my last. I give 
the enemy another montli, or something less, to stay 
here." The more sanguine Vaudreuil would hardly give 
them a week. 

11 



162 QUEBEC. 

Meanwhile, no precaution was spared. The force 
under Bougainville above Quebec was raised to three 
thousand men. He was ordered to watch the shore as 
far as Jacques-Cartier, and follow with his main body 
every movement of Holmes's squadron. There was 
little fear for the heights near the town; they were 
thought inaccessible. Even Montcalm believed them 
safe, and had expressed himself to that effect some time 
before. " We need not suppose," he wrote to Vaudreuil, 
" that the enemy have wings ; " and again, speaking of 
the very place where Wolfe afterwards landed, " I swear 
to you that a hundred men posted there would stop their 
whole army." He was right. A hundred watchful and 
determined men could have held the position long 
enough for reinforcements to come up. 

The hundred men were there. Captain de Vergor, 
of the colony troops, commanded them, and reinforce- 
ments were within his call ; for the battalion of Guienne 
had been ordered to encamp close at hand on the Plains 
of Abraham. Vergor's post, called Anse du Foulon, 
was a mile and a half from Quebec. A little beyond it, 
by the brink of the cliffs, was another post, called Samos, 
held by seventy men with four cannon ; and, beyond 
this again, the heights of Sillery were guarded by a hun- 
dred and thirty men, also with cannon. These were 
outposts of Bougainville, whose headquarters were at 
Cap-Rouge, six miles above Sillery, and whose troops 
were in continual movement along the intervening shore. 
Thus all was vigilance ; for while the French were 
strong in the hope of speedy delivery, they felt that 
there was no safety till the tents of the invader had 
vanished from their shores and his ships from their 
river. " What we knew," says one of them, " of the 
character of M. Wolfe, that imi)etuous, bold, and 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 163 

intrepid warrior, prepared us for a last attack before he 
left us." 

Wolfe had been very ill on the evening of the fourth. 
The troops knew it, and their spirits sank ; but, after a 
night of torment, he grew better, and was soon among 
them again, rekindling their ardor, and imparting a 
cheer that he could not share. For himself he had no 
pity ; but when he heard of the illness of two officers in 
one of the ships, he sent them a message of warm sym- 
pathy, advised them to return to Point Levi, and offered 
them his own barge and an escort. They thanked him, 
but replied that, come what might, they would see the 
enterprise to an end. Another officer remarked in his 
hearing that one of the invalids had a very delicate con- 
stitution. " Don't tell me of constitution," said Wolfe ; 
" he has good spirit, and good spirit will carry a man 
through everything." An immense moral force bore up 
his own frail body and forced it to its work. 

Major Roljert Stobo, who, five years before, had been 
given as a hostage to the French at the capture of 
Fort Necessity, arrived about this time in a vessel from 
Halifax. He had long been a prisoner at Quebec, not 
always in close custody, and had used his opportunities 
to acquaint himself with the neighborhood. In the 
spring of this year he and an officer of rangers named 
Stevens had made their escape with extraordinary skill 
and daring ; and he now returned to give his country- 
men the benefit of his local knowledge. His biographer 
says that it was he who directed Wolfe in the choice 
of a landing-place. Be this as it may, Wolfe in person 
examined the river and the shores as far as Pointe-aux- 
Trembles ; till at length, landing on the south side a 
little above Quebec, and looking across the water with 
a telescope, he descried a path that ran with a long 



164 QUEBEC. 

slope up the face of the woody precipice, and saw at the 
top a cluster of tents. They were those of Vergor's 
guard at the Anse du Foulon, now called Wolfe's Cove. 
As he could see but ten or twelve of them, he thought 
that the guard could not be numerous, and might be 
overpowered. His hope would have been stronger if he 
had known that Vergor had once been tried for mis- 
conduct and cowardice in the surrender of Beaus^jour, 
and saved from merited disgrace by the friendship of 
the intendant Bigot, and the protection of Vaudreuil. 

The morning of the seventh was fair and warm, and 
the vessels of Holmes, their crowded decks gay with 
scarlet uniforms, sailed up the river to Cap-Rouge. A 
lively scene awaited them ; for here were the head- 
quarters of Bougainville, and here lay his principal 
force, while the rest watched the banks above and 
below. The cove into which the little river runs was 
guarded by floating batteries ; the surrounding shore 
was defended by breastworks ; and a large body of 
regulars, militia, and mounted Canadians in blue uni- 
forms moved to and fro, with restless activity, on the 
hills behind. When the vessels came to anchor, the 
horsemen dismounted and formed in line with the in- 
fantry ; then, with loud shouts, the whole rushed down 
the heights to man their works at the shore. That 
true Briton, Captain Knox, looked on with a critical 
eye from the gangway of his ship, and wrote that night 
in his Diary that they had made a ridiculous noise. 
" How different ! " he exclaims, " how nobly awful and 
expressive of true valor is the customary silence of 
the British troops ! " 

In the afternoon the ships opened fire, while the 
troops entered the boats and rowed up and down as 
if looking for a landing-place. It was but a feint of 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 165 

Wolfe to deceive Bougainville as to his real design. 
A heavy easterly rain set in on the next morning, and 
lasted two days without respite. All operations were 
suspended, and the men suffered greatly in the crowded 
transports. Half of them were therefore landed on the 
south shore, where they made their quarters in the 
village of St. Nicolas, refreshed themselves, and dried 
their wet clothing, knapsacks, and blankets. 

For several successive days the squadron of Holmes 
was allowed to drift up the river with the flood tide and 
down with the ebb, thus passing and repassmg inces- 
santly between the neighborhood of Quebec on one 
hand, and a point high above Cap-Rouge on the other ; 
while Bougainville, perplexed, and always expecting an 
attack, followed the ships to and fro along the shore, 
by day and by night, till his men were exhausted with 
ceaseless forced marches. 

At last the time for action came. On Wednesday, 
the twelfth, the troops at St. Nicolas were embarked 
again, and all were told to hold themselves in readiness. 
Wolfe, from the flagship " Sutherland," issued his last 
general orders. " The enemy's force is now divided, 
great scarcity of provisions in their camp, and universal 
discontent among the Canadians. Our troops below are 
in readiness to join us ; all the light artillery and tools 
are embarked at the Point of Levi ; and the troops will 
land where the French seem least to expect it. The 
first body that gets on shore is to march directly to the 
enemy and drive them from any little post they may 
occupy ; the officers must be careful that the succeeding 
bodies do not by any mistake fire on those who go 
before them. The battalions must form on the upper 
ground with expedition, and be ready to charge what- 
ever presents itself. When the artillery and troops are 



166 QUEBEC. 

landed, a corps will be left to secure the landing-place, 
while the rest march on and endeavor to bring the 
Canadians and French to a battle. The officers and 
men will remember what their country expects from 
them, and what a determined body of soldiers inured 
to war is capable of doing against five weak French 
battalions mingled with a disorderly peasantry." 

The spirit of the army answered to that of its chief. 
The troops loved and admired their general, trusted 
their officers, and were ready for any attempt. " Nay, 
how could it be otherwise," quaintly asks honest Sergeant 
John Johnson, of the fifty-eighth regiment, " being at 
the heels of gentlemen whose whole thirst, equal with 
their general, was for glory ? We had seen them tried, 
and always found them sterling. We knew that they 
would stand by us to the last extremity." 

Wolfe had thirty-six hundred men and officers with 
him on board the vessels of Holmes ; and he now sent 
orders to Colonel Burton at Point Levi to bring to his 
aid all who could be spared from that place and the 
Point of Orleans. They were to march along the south 
bank, after nightfall, and wait further orders at a desig- 
nated spot convenient for embarkation. Their number 
was about twelve hundred, so that the entire force 
destined for the enterprise was at the utmost forty- 
eight hundred. With these, Wolfe meant to climb the 
heights of Abraham in the teeth of an enemy who, 
though much reduced, were still twice as numerous as 
their assailants. 

Admiral Samiders lay with the main fleet in the Basin 
of Quebec. This excellent officer, whatever may have 
been his views as to the necessity of a speedy departure, 
aided Wolfe to the last with unfailing energy and zeal. 
It Avas agreed between them that while the General 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRA.HAM. 167 

made the real attack, the Admiral should engage Mont- 
calm's attention by a pretended one. As night ap- 
proached, the fleet ranged itself along the Beauport 
shore ; the boats were lowered and filled with sailors, 
marines, and the few troops that had been left behind ; 
while ship signalled to ship, cannon flashed and thun- 
dered, and shot ploughed the beach, as if to clear a 
way for assailants to land. In the gloom of the evening 
the effect was imposing. Montcalm, who thought that 
the movements of the English above the town were only 
a feint, that their main force was still below it, and that 
their real attack would be made there, was completely 
deceived, and massed his troops in front of Beauport to 
repel the expected landing. But while in the fleet of 
Saunders all was uproar and ostentatious menace, the 
danger was ten miles away, where the squadron of 
Holmes lay tranquil and silent at its anchorage off 
Cap-Rouge. 

It was less tranquil than it seemed. All on board 
knew that a bloAv would be struck that night, though 
only a few high officers knew where. Colonel Howe, of 
the light infantry, called for volunteers to lead the un- 
known and desperate venture, promising, in the words 
of one of them, " that if any of us survived we might 
depend on being recommended to the General." As 
many as were wanted — twenty-four in all — soon came 
forward. Thirty large bateaux and some boats belong- 
ing to the squadron lay moored alongside the vessels ; 
and late in the evening the troops were ordered into 
them, the twenty-four volunteers taking their place in 
the foremost. They held in all about seventeen hundred 
men. The rest remained on board. 

Bougainville could discern the movement, and mis- 
judged it, thinking that he himself was to be attacked. 



168 QUEBEC. 

The tide was still flowing; and, the better to deceive 
him, the vessels and boats were allowed to drift up- 
ward with it for a little distance, as if to land above 
Cap-Rouge. 

The day had been fortunate for Wolfe. Two desert- 
ers came from the camp of Bougainville with intelli- 
gence that, at ebb tide on the next night, he was to 
send down a convoy of provisions to Montcalm. The 
necessities of the camp at Beauport, and the difficul- 
ties of transportation by land, had before compelled the 
French to resort to this perilous means of conveying 
supplies ; and their boats, drifting in darkness under 
the shadows of the northern shore, had commonly passed 
in safety. Wolfe saw at once that, if his own boats went 
down in advance of the convoy, he could turn the in- 
telligence of the deserters to good account. 

He was still on board the " Sutherland." Every 
preparation was made, and every order given ; it only 
remained to wait the turning of the tide. Seated with 
him in the cabin was the commander of the sloop-of-war 
" Porcupine," his former school-fellow John Jervis, af- 
terwards Earl St. Vincent. Wolfe told him that he 
expected to die in the battle of the next day ; and 
taking from his bosom a miniature of Miss Lowther, 
his betrothed, he gave it to him with a request that he 
would return it to her if the presentiment should prove 
true. 

Towards two o'clock the tide began to ebb, and a 
fresh wind blew down the river. Two lanterns were 
raised into the maintop shrouds of the " Sutherland." 
It was the appointed signal ; the boats cast off and 
fell down with the current, those of the light infantry 
leading the way. The vessels with the rest of the 
troops had orders to follow a little later. 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 169 

To look for a moment at the chances on which this 
bold adventnre hung. First, the deserters told Wolfe 
that provision-boats were ordered to go down to Quebec 
that night ; secondly, Bougainville countermanded them ; 
thirdly, the sentries posted along the heights were told 
of the order, but not of the countermand ; fourthly, 
Vergor at the Anse du Foulon had permitted most of 
his men, chiefly Canadians from Lorette, to go home for 
a time and work at their harvesting, on condition, it is 
said, that they should afterwards work in a neighboring 
field of his own; fifthly, he kept careless watch, and 
went quietly to bed ; sixthly, the battalion of Guienne, 
ordered to take post on the Plains of Abraham, had, 
for reasons unexplained, remained encamped by the St. 
Charles ; and lastly, when Bougainville saw Holmes's 
vessels drift down the stream, he did not tax his weary 
troops to follow them, thinking that they would return 
as usual with the flood tide. But for these conspiring 
circumstances New France might have lived a little 
longer, and the fruitless heroism of Wolfe would have 
passed, with countless other heroisms, into oblivion. 

For full two hours the procession of boats, borne on 
the current, steered silently down the St. Lawrence. 
The stars were visible, but the night w^as moonless 
and sufficiently dark. The General was in one of 
the foremost boats, and near him was a young mid- 
shipman, John Robison, afterwards professor of natural 
philosophy in the University of Edinburgh. He used to 
tell in his later life how Wolfe, with a low voice, 
I'cpeated Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard to the 
officers about him. Probably it was to relieve the in- 
tense strain of his thoughts. Among the rest was the 
verse which his own fate was soon to illustrate, — 
" The paths of glory lead but to the grave." 



170 QUEBEC. 

" Gentlemen," he said, as his recital ended, " I would 
rather have written those lines than take Quebec." 
None were there to tell him that the hero is greater 
than the poet. 

As they neared their destination, the tide bore them 
in towards the shore, and the mighty wall of rock and 
forest towered in darkness on their left. The dead 
stillness was suddenly broken by the sharp Qui vive ! of 
a French sentry, invisible in the thick gloom. France ! 
answered a Highland officer of Fraser's regiment from 
one of the boats of the light infantry. He had served 
in Holland, and spoke French fluently. 

A quel regiment ? 

Be la Be me, replied the Highlander. He knew that 
a part of that corps was with Bougainville. The sentry, 
expecting the convoy of provisions, was satisfied, and 
did not ask for the password. 

Soon after, the foremost boats were passing the heights 
of Samos, when another sentry challenged them, and 
they could see him through the darkness running down 
to the edge of the water, within range of a pistol-shot. 
In answer to his questions, the same officer replied, in 
French : " Provision-boats. Don't make a noise ; the 
English will hear us." In fact, the sloop-of-war 
"Hunter" was anchored in the stream not far off. 
This time, again, the sentry let them pass. In a few 
moments they rounded the headland above the Anse du 
Foulon. There was no sentry there. The strong cur- 
rent swept the boats of the light infantry a little below 
the intended landing-place. They disembarked on a 
narrow strand at the foot of heights as steep as a hill 
covered with trees can be. The twenty-four volunteers 
led the way, climbing with what silence they might, 
closely followed l)y a much larger body. "When they 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 171 

reached the top they saw in the dim light a cluster of 
tents at a short distance, and immediately made a dash 
at them. Vergor leaped from bed and tried to run off, 
hut was shot in the heel and captured. His men, taken 
by surprise, made little resistance. One or two were 
caught, and the rest fled. 

The main body of troops waited in their boats by the 
edge of the strand. The heights near by were cleft by 
a great ravine choked with forest trees ; and in its 
depths ran a little brook called Ruisseau St.-Denis, 
which, swollen by the late rains, fell plashing in the 
stillness over a rock. Other than this no sound could 
reach the strained ear of Wolfe but the gurgle of the 
tide and the cautious cUmbing of his advance-parties as 
they mounted the steeps at some little distance from 
where he sat listening. At length from the top came 
a sound of musket-shots, followed by loud huzzas, and 
he knew that his men were masters of the position. 
The word was given ; the troops leaped from the boats 
and scaled the heights, some here, some there, clutching 
at trees and bushes, their muskets slung at their backs. 
Tradition still points out the place, near the moutli of 
the ravine, where the foremost reached the top. Wolfe 
said to an officer near him : " You can try it, but I don t 
think you'll get up." He himself, however, found 
strength to drag himself up with the rest. The narrow 
slanting path on the face of the heights had been made 
impassable by trenches and abatis; but all obstructions 
were soon cleared away, and then the ascent was easy. 
In the gray of the morning the long file of red-coated 
soldiers moved quickly upward, and formed m order 
on the plateau above. 

Before manv of them had reached the top, cannon 
were heard close on the left. It was the battery at 



172 QUEBEC. 

Samos firing on the boats in the rear and the vessels 
descending from Cap-Rouge. A i)arty was sent to 
silence it ; this was soon effected, and the more distant 
battery at Sillery was next attacked and taken. As fast 
as the boats were emptied they returned for the troops 
left on board the vessels and for those waiting on the 
southern shore under Colonel Burton. 

The day broke in clouds and threatening rain. 
Wolfe's battalions were drawn up along the crest of the 
heights. No enemy was in sight, though a body of 
Canadians had sallied from the town and moved along 
the strand towards the landing-place, whence they were 
quickly driven back. He had achieved the most critical 
part of his enterprise ; yet the success that he coveted 
placed him in imminent danger. On one side was the 
garrison of Quebec and the army of Beauport, and 
Bougainville was on the other. Wolfe's alternative 
was victory or ruin ; for if he should be overwhelmed 
by a combined attack, retreat would be hopeless. 
His feelings no man can know; but it would be 
safe to say that hesitation or doubt had no part in 
them. 

He went to reconnoitre the ground, and soon came 
to the Plains of Abraham, so called from Abraham 
Martin, a pilot known as Maitre Abraham, who had 
owned a piece of land here in the early times of the 
colony. The Plains were a tract of grass, tolerably 
level in most parts, patched here and there with corn- 
fields, studded with clumps of bushes, and forming a 
part of the high plateau at the eastern end of which 
Quebec stood. On the south it was bounded by the 
declivities along the St. Lawrence ; on the north, by 
those along the St. Charles, or rather along the mead- 
ows through which that lazy stream crawled like a 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 173 

writhing snake. At the place that Wolfe chose for 
his battle-field the plateau was less than a mile 
wide. 

Thither the troops advanced, marched by files till 
they reached the ground, and then wheeled to form their 
line of battle, which stretched across the plateau and 
faced the city. It consisted of six battalions and the 
detached grenadiers from Louisbourg, all drawn up in 
ranks three deep. Its right wing was near the brink 
of the heights along the St. Lawrence ; but the left 
could not reach those along the St. Charles. On this 
side a wide space was perforce left open, and there was 
danger of being outflanked. To prevent this. Brigadier 
Townshend was stationed here with two battalions, 
drawn up at right angles with the rest, and fronting the 
St. Charles. The battalion of Webb's regiment, under 
Colonel Burton, formed the reserve ; the third battalion 
of Royal Americans was left to guard the landing ; and 
Howe's light infantry occupied a wood far in the rear. 
Wolfe, with Monckton and Murray, commanded the 
front line, on which the heavy fighting was to fall, and 
which, when all the troops had arrived, numbered less 
than thirty-five hundred men. 

Quebec was not a mile distant, but they could not 
see it ; for a ridge of broken ground intervened, called 
Buttes-a-Neveu, about six hundred paces off. The first 
division of troops had scarcely come up when, about six 
o'clock, this ridge was suddenly thronged with white 
uniforms. It was the battalion of Guienne, arrived at 
the eleventh hour from its camp by the St. Charles. 
Some time after there was hot firing in the rear. It 
came from a detachment of Bougainville's command 
attacking a house where some of the light infantry were 
posted. The assailants were repulsed, and the firing 



174 QUEBEC. 

ceased. Light showers fell at intervals, besprinkling 
the troops as they stood patiently waiting the event. 

Montcalm had passed a troubled night. Through all 
the evening the cannon bellowed from the ships of 
Saunders, and the boats of the fleet hovered in the dusk 
off the Beauport shore, threatening every moment to 
land. Troops lined the intrenchments till day, while 
the General walked the field that adjoined his head- 
quarters till one in the morning, accompanied by the 
Chevalier Johnstone and Colonel Poulariez. Johnstone 
says that he Avas in great agitation, and took no rest 
all night. At daybreak he heard the sound of cannon 
above the town. It was the battery at Samos firing on 
the English ships. He had sent an officer to the quarters 
of Vaudreuil, which were much nearer Quebec, with 
orders to bring him word at once should anything 
unusual happen. But no word came, and about six 
o'clock he mounted and rode thither with Johnstone. 
As they advanced, the country behind the town opened 
more and more upon their sight ; till at length, when 
opposite Vaudreuil's house, they saw across the St. 
Charles, some two miles away, the red ranks of British 
soldiers on the heights beyond. 

" This is a serious business," Montcalm said ; and 
sent off Johnstone at full gallop to bring up the troops 
from the centre and left of the camp. Those of the 
right were in motion already, doubtless by the Governor's 
order. Vaudreuil came out of the house. Montcalm 
stopped for a few words with him ; then set spurs to 
his horse, and rode over the bridge of the St. Charles to 
the scene of danger. He rode with a fixed look, uttering 
not a word. 

The army followed in such order as it might, crossed 
the bridge in hot haste, passed under the northern ram- 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 175 

part of Quebec, entered at the Palace Gate, and pressed 
on in headlong march along the quaint narrow streets 
of the warlike town : troops of Indians in scalplocks and 
war-paint, a savage glitter in their deep-set eyes ; bands 
of Canadians whose all was at stake, — faith, country, 
and home ; the colony regulars ; the battalions of Old 
France, a torrent of white uniforms and gleaming bayo- 
nets, La Sarre, Languedoc, Roussillon, Beam, — victors 
of Oswego, William Henry, and Ticonderoga. So they 
swept on, poured out npon the plain, some by the gate 
of St. Louis, and some by that of St John, and hurried, 
breathless, to where the banners of Guienne still fluttered 
on the ridge. 

Montcalm was amazed at what he saw. He had 
expected a detachment, and he found an army. Full in 
sight before him stretched the lines of Wolfe : the close 
ranks of the English infantry, a silent wall of red, and 
the wild array of the Highlanders, with their waving 
tartans, and bagpipes screaming defiance. Vaudreuil 
had not come ; but not the less was felt the evil of a 
divided authority and the jealousy of the rival chiefs. 
Montcalm waited long for the forces he had ordered to 
join him from the left wing of the army. He waited in 
vain. It is said that the Governor had detained them, 
lest the English should attack the Beauport shore. Even 
if they did so, and succeeded, the French might defy 
them, could tliey but put Wolfe to rout on the Plains of 
Abraham. Neither did the garrison of Quebec come to 
the aid of Montcalm. He sent to Ramesay, its com- 
mander, for twenty-five field-pieces Avhich were on the 
Palace battery. Eamesay would give him only three, say- 
ing that he wanted them for his own defence. There 
were orders and counter-orders ; misunderstanding, haste, 
delay, perplexity. 



/ 



176 QUEBEC. 

Montcalm and his chief officers held a council of war. 
It is said that he and they alike were for immediate 
attack. His enemies declare that he was afraid lest 
Vaudreuil should arrive and take command ; but the 
Governor was not a man to assume responsibility at 
such a crisis. Others say that his impetuosity over- 
came his better judgment ; and of this charge it is hard 
to acquit him. Bougainville was but a few miles dis- 
tant, and some of his troops were much nearer ; a mes- 
senger sent by way of Old Lorette could have reached 
him in an hour and a half at most, and a combined 
attack in front and rear might have been concerted with 
him. If, moreover, Montcalm could have come to an 
understanding with Vaudreuil, his own force might 
have been strengthened by two or three thousand addi- 
tional men from the town and the camp of Beauport ; 
but he felt that there was no time to lose, for he imag- 
ined that Wolfe would soon be reinforced, which was 
impossible, and he believed that the English were forti- 
fying themselves, which was no less an error. He has 
been blamed not only for fighting too soon, but for 
fighting at all. In this he could not choose. Fight he 
must, for Wolfe was now in a position to cut off all his 
supplies. His men were full of ardor, and he resolved 
to attack before their ardor cooled. He spoke a few 
words to them in his keen, vehement way. " I remem- 
ber very well how he looked," one of the Canadians, 
then a boy of eighteen, used to say in his old age ; " he 
rode a black or dark bay horse along the front of our 
lines, brandishing his sword, as if to excite us to do our 
duty. He wore a coat with wide sleeves, which fell 
back as he raised his arm, and showed the white linen 
of the wristband." 

The English waited the result with a composure which, 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 177 

if not quite real, was at least well feigned. The three 
field-pieces sent by Ramesay plied them with canister- 
shot, and fifteen hundred Canadians and Indians fusil- 
laded them in front and flank. Over all the plain, from 
behind bushes and knolls and the edge of cornfields, puffs 
of smoke sprang incessantly from the guns of these hid- 
den marksmen. Skirmishers were thrown out before 
the lines to hold them in check, and the soldiers were 
ordered to lie on the grass to avoid the shot. The firing 
was liveliest on the English left, where bands of sharp- 
shooters got under the edge of the declivity, aniong 
thickets, and behind scattered houses, whence they 
killed and wounded a considerable number of Towns- 
hend's men. The light infantry were called up from 
the rear. The houses were taken and retaken, and one 
or more of them was burned. 

Wolfe was everywhere. How cool he was, and why 
his followers loved him, is shown by an incident that 
happened in the course of the morning. One of his 
captains was shot through the lungs ; and on recovering 
consciousness he saw the General standing at his side. 
Wolfe pressed his hand, told him not to despair, praised 
his services, promised him early promotion, and sent an 
aide-de-camp to Monckton to beg that officer to keep the 
promise if he himself should fall. 

It was towards ten o'clock when, from the high 
ground on the right of the line, Wolfe saw that the 
crisis was near. The French on the ridge had formed 
themselves into three bodies, regulars in the centre, 
regulars and Canadians on right and left. Two field- 
pieces, which had been dragged up the heights at Anse 
du Foulon, fired on them with grape-shot, and the troops, 
rising from the ground, prepared to receive them. In 
a few moments more they were in motion. They came 
12 



178 QUEBEC. 

on rapidly, uttering loud shouts, and firing as soon as 
they were within range. Their ranks, ill ordered at the 
best, were further confused by a number of Canadians 
who had been mixed among the regulars, and who, after 
hastily firing, threw themselves on the ground to reload. 
The British advanced a few rods ; then halted and stood 
still. When the French w^ere within forty paces the 
word of command rang out, and a crash of musketry 
answered all along the line. The volley was delivered 
with remarkable precision. In the battalions of the 
centre, which had suffered least from the enemy's bul- 
lets, the simultaneous explosion was afterwards said by 
French officers to have sounded like a cannon-shot. 
Another volley followed, and then a furious clattering 
fire that lasted but a minute or two. When the smoke 
rose, a miserable sight was revealed : the ground cum- 
bered with dead and wounded, the advancing masses 
stopped short and turned into a frantic mob, shouting, 
cursing, gesticulating. The order was given to charge. 
Then over the field rose the British cheer, mixed with 
the fierce yell of the Highland slogan. Some of the 
corps pushed forward with the bayonet ; some advanced 
firing. The clansmen di'cw their broadswords and 
dashed on, keen and swift as bloodhounds. At the 
English right, though the attacking column was broken 
to pieces, a fire was still kept up, chiefly, it seems, by 
sharpshooters from the bushes and cornfields, where 
they had lain for an hour or more. Here Wolfe him- 
self led the charge, at the head of the Louisboiu"g gren- 
adiers. A shot shattered his wrist. He wrapped his 
handkerchief about it and kept on. Another shot struck 
him, and he still advanced, when a third lodged in his 
breast. He staggered, and sat on the ground. Lieu- 
tenant Brown, of the grenadiers, one Henderson, a vol- 



THE HEIGHTS OF ABRAHAM. 179 

uiiteer in the same company, and a private soldier, aided 
by an officer of artillery who ran to join them, carried 
him in their arms to the rear. He begged them to lay 
him down. They did so, and asked if he would have a 
surgeon. ''There's no need," he answered; "it's all 
over with me." A moment after, one of them cried 
out: "They run; see how they run!" "Who run?" 
Wolfe demanded, like a man roused from sleep. " The 
enemy, sir. Egad, they give way everywhere 1 " " Go, 
one of you, to Colonel Burton," returned the dying man ; 
" tell him to march Webb's regiment down to Charles 
River, to cut oft' their retreat from the bridge." Then, 
turning on his side, he murmured, " Now, God be praised, 
I will die in peace ! " and in a few moments his gallant 
soul had fled. 

Montcalm, still on horseback, was borne with the tide 
of fugitives towards the town. As he approached the 
walls a shot passed through his body. He kept his seat ; 
two soldiers supported him, one on each side, and led 
his horse through the St. Louis Gate. On the open 
space within, among the excited crowd, were several 
women, drawn, no doubt, by eagerness to know the 
result of the fight. One of them recognized him, 
saw the streaming blood, and shrieked, " mon Dieul 
mon Bieu ! le Marquis est tuS ! " " It 's nothing, it 's 
nothing," replied the death-stricken man; "don't be 
troubled for me, my good friends." (" Ge n'est rien, ce 
n'est Hen; ne vous affligez pas pour moi, mes bonnes 
amies."^ 

Some of the fugitives took refuge in the city and 
others escaped across the St. Charles. In the next 
night the French army abandoned Quebec to its fate 
and fled up the St. Lawrence. The city soon surren- 



180 QUEBEC. 

dered to Wolfe's successor, Brigadier Townshend, and 
the Englisli held it during the winter. In April, the 
French under the Chevalier de Levis made a bold but 
unsuccessful attempt to retake it. In the following 
summer, General Amherst advanced on Montreal, till 
in September all Canada was forced to surrender, and 
the power of France was extinguished on the North 
American continent. 



University Press : John. Wilson & Son, Cambridge 






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